Left Behind
by Fionnabhair Nic Aillil
Summary: After the death of Albus Dumbledore, Ginny must face not only the true cost of being Harry's girl, but her own deepest and darkest fears.
1. Prologue: A Wasted Dream

Prologue: A Wasted Dream

Ginny allowed her book to slip to the ground; usually she loved _Persuasion_, but today Anne's struggles to regain her captain didn't fill her with emotion or hope. They grated

The sky was overcast and there was a slight chill in the air, though not enough to force her back into the house. Her legs crossed under her, Ginny leaned back against a tree trunk and stared into space. Today had not been a good day. Fleur was overwrought; and the bridesmaids' dresses had been a disappointment, and she had made Ginny stand for nearly an hour while she altered the dress, swearing copiously in French. Hermione had been 'too busy' to distract her during this ordeal.

Everyone was 'too busy' it seemed, and such matters as a dress were far too trivial, and eventually, Ginny ran outside, where at least she would have some peace. The wedding was in three days. And here she was, sitting outside, railing at a happy ending, while the twins brewed up a new batch of fireworks, and her Mum studied cake recipes and Death Eaters blew up peoples' homes.

She shook her head, and picked at the grass. A plane zoomed overhead, probably on its way to the nearby Air Force base, and masked the sound of three voices coming towards her. Ginny jumped when she heard them; every time she'd entered a room since they arrived they abruptly stopped talking, and it surprised her that they hadn't done so now.

She leant back, closing her eyes and enjoying the sound of their voices; she had an inkling she wouldn't be hearing them much longer. One of those voices recalled the heartbreak Ginny thought she'd buried so deep it was beyond tears; turned out, it wasn't. She dashed one tear away desperately and told herself not to be so silly. So what if Harry was around? So what if he'd barely looked at her, or spoken to her, or touched her, and she felt as invisible as she did when she was twelve? What did any of that matter when so many terrible things were happening?

Their conversation came to a sudden halt, and Ginny opened her eyes to see Ron staring down at her accusingly. She wasn't eavesdropping – only listening, and thinking back, she couldn't actually remember any words they've said. Hermione put her hand on Ron's arm, and something passed between them, and a moment later Harry sat beside her.

He flung himself to the ground with all the grace of a hippo, and Ginny turned her book over, so he couldn't see the title, though she knew it was unlikely Harry was familiar with Jane Austen. She tried not to stare at her hands, so much easier than looking at him; as the silence stretched, Ginny reflected that it had been more than a month since Dumbledore's funeral. They'd been apart longer than they were ever together.

She really shouldn't be so silly, she reminded herself.

She looked up smiling brightly, but it died on her lips. Harry's lips were curved, in what she supposed some would call a smile, but she could see the lines of tension in his neck, and the oddly deadened look in his eyes. Harry only had that expression when he looked at her. She longed to touch his arm or his hand, or curl up and let him stroke her hair, or anything that would make him look more alive. Only she wasn't allowed.

Ginny winced, and then Harry said, "All right?"

She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. She looked at her hands as he continued. "I heard a lot of noise in there."

"It's the dress," she said. "I look like one of the Magical Brethren in it." Normally this comment would draw a laugh or a grin or something from Harry, but he only sighed and looked out toward the pond. Ginny wanted to shake him, or hit him, or do something that would make him react like a normal person because the Harry she loves laughs.

They sat in silence for a long moment, and Ginny was suddenly reminded of the moment he broke up with her.

_Harry was staring at her, his eyes pinning her to her seat. Ginny knew what was coming, and for an instant she considered getting up, running back to the Tower and hiding in her room, but this conversation had to happen. She'd known it was coming and she'd be damned if she wouldn't take it like a Weasley. She thought his voice cracked as he spoke, every word a dagger in her ear. Allowing her nails to dig into one palm she said, "It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?" _

Harry seemed afraid to touch her, reaching a hand up to her chin but changing his mind half way there, and yet Ginny had never heard him use this tone of voice before. She'd spent years imagining just that tone of voice, and almost as many pretending she didn't care if he never used it; she was all too well aware of the irony that, as he dumped her, Harry was fulfilling her wish.

_If Harry thought the greatest danger was of Voldemort hurting her, he was a fool. If he thought he wouldn't wound her at least as deeply he was a fool… She had to tell him. "What if I don't care?" _

Harry shook his head, and moved even closer, as though bent on impressing this on her. "I care," he said, his voice definitely cracking over the next words, "How do you think I'd feel if this was your funeral... and it was my fault..."

Ginny looked away from him, out over the lake. She felt slightly numb, as though she'd been given a Pain Relieving Draught, and someone was prodding the affected area. She had to say something.

_Perhaps though, it would have been prudent not to expose herself completely, not to admit to all the foolishness and stupidity of her younger self when Harry was letting her go. Ginny wondered if she had gone a little mad, saying these things to a boy in the process of breaking up with her._

_But Harry was smiling, and Ginny's composure slipped, just a little. She struggled to smile, stretched for a laugh; anything to keep back the deep well of sorrow she knew was somewhere beneath the surface, even if she couldn't feel it at right this moment. She told him just why she liked him, feeling her own heart pump, bare to his gaze, as she said the words. Harry's hand touched her cheek ever so briefly, and when Ginny looked up, he was walking away._

It was too quiet between them, and Ginny was about to tell him one of her many hilarious stories about Auntie Muriel, when he touched her hand gently, and said, "Ginny…"

Harry swallowed and managed to look at her again. "Look… I don't know… We're going soon; it could be any time after the wedding, and we thought…"

Ginny knew what he was saying – she always did – and for a moment she felt as though the anger would drown her. "You're not going to say goodbye," she said flatly.

He seemed surprised for half a moment, but then shook his head in acceptance. "I thought it would easier."

"So you're just going to vanish in the middle of the night or something? Not a word – not a note, nothing?" Ginny paused, taking a breath, and trying not to sound upset. "You're right, it would be easier Harry. For you."

She didn't know why he had to hurt her like this. Ginny thought he cared about her – she was almost certain that was what he'd meant, and yet… She pushed off the ground suddenly, determined to put as much space as possible between them, so she could find a quiet space to cry over Harry Potter one more time.

Unfortunately, Harry was stronger, and taller and naturally quite a bit faster than she was, and caught up with her in a matter of seconds. Grasping her wrist he turned her around to face him, and Ginny swore to herself that she wouldn't cry. She would not cry in front of him; she had her pride, and she would not let Harry know that he could make her cry.

"Look," he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't think it'd be so hard."

There weren't any tears on her face, but her voice was full of them. "Why are you doing this?"

Harry looked amazed and she cut off his response, baffled that he could be so foolish as to even think such a thing. "I get it," she began. "You have things to do, I understand that. But if you think I'm just going to… wait around to hear if you're alive or dead, then you've got another thing coming Harry."

He stood back, and Ginny saw that look in his eyes again, and she went on, hoping to spur him to anger, or tears, or something. "And you're not going to write to me, are you? Any of you. And if I'm really lucky I'll find out from the Daily Prophet what you're doing."

At least Harry had the courage to nod; it was the only thing that kept her from storming off. Ginny always knew that he, Ron and Hermione had a 'special relationship' but this left her breathless.

Finally she managed to say in a wondering tone of voice, "I can't believe this – it's actually cruel Harry."

She had to stop to swallow a sob, "…but, fine. You do what you have to… And come back."

Ginny almost put a hand to his face, but she let it fall when she saw his expression. Harry didn't want her to touch him.

And then she walked away, amazed at her final words. How she could be so willing to put up with this was beyond her. She should hex him or kick him, or teach him in some lasting and painful way that Ginny Weasley was not to be taken for granted.

But even if she did, it wouldn't stop him from breaking her heart – and that was what it felt like. No matter how much she attempted to convince herself otherwise – that it was Hermione's betrayal of their friendship, or Ron's decision to exclude her yet again that was killing her – it was the rejection implicit in Harry's actions that made her curl up in her sheets at night and cry and pray. Ron and Hermione only made her angry; Harry made her weep.

Harry was calling her, but Ginny only stopped when she saw her father coming towards her. His face was sombre, and she stared at him, mentally running through a list of names.

"Ginny, love," he said, "you should come inside."

"What is it, Dad?" He looked at Harry, and Ginny felt something tighten in her stomach.

"Perhaps I should tell you on your own?"

Ginny licked her lips, and says, "No, it's all right. What's happened?" She locked her hands together to hide their trembling. Harry had come to stand just behind her, she felt his warmth.

"Ginny; there was an attack, in Manchester."

Her voice sounded distant as she said, "Oh God!"

"Your friend, Louise, she was injured."

"How badly? How badly Dad?"

Her father put a hand out as Ginny realised he wanted to hug her, but she couldn't understand, didn't want to face this. "How badly?"

He shook his head, and Ginny saw tears in his eyes. "She won't wake up Ginny."

Harry slipped an arm around her waist, and though his warmth was like an anchor, Ginny felt bound to say, "I'm not going to faint."

They convinced her to go inside, and she sat at the kitchen table while her Mum wept, and wrote a letter to Louise's mother, a Muggle. Eventually she couldn't stand Harry watching her, and all the noise was too much, and Ginny slowly walked up to her bedroom. Hermione was there, and she stared at Ginny as though expecting an explosion.

Ginny shrugged, and stared at a photo from her fourth year; she was holding the Quidditch Cup, and Louise had been slightly sloshed from Butterbeer. Louise, who wouldn't wake up.

Suddenly a great burst of tears spilt out of her, and Hermione's arms were wrapped around her, and Ginny was crying so hard she couldn't breathe. Hermione spoke soothing words, and stroked her hair, and hours later, Ginny lay in her bed, all worn out and thin feeling; and as she heard their voices from Ron's room she thought that this was what war meant.


	2. A Time to Build Up

Chapter One: A Time to Build Up

Ginny pulled her robes over her head, struggling to find the armholes. She was rather relieved to be reaching Hogwarts. People evidently found Harry absence extremely fascinating, and ever since she'd crossed the barrier, she'd been besieged. Having to explain, again and again, that no, he wasn't going out with her anymore, and that in fact, he'd left the school, perhaps to get away from her (at least, that had clearly been Romilda Vane's opinion) was more than a little wearying.

At least Luna hadn't wanted to talk, though Ginny wasn't sure if this was the result of laudable sensitivity, or simply absence of mind. With Luna you could never tell.

As much as Ginny liked her, it had been a difficult few hours, and she hadn't been completely able to restrain a horrible longing for Harry, or Hermione or… Louise. Jules and Neville had shared their compartment, and Jules looked as distressed as Ginny herself. It had been a relief to see her.

She'd slept between Jules and Louise for the last five years, but of course, Louise was still in St Mungo's, so there would only be four of them in the dormitory. Ginny got on well with all her dorm-mates – they were a 'group' – but at the same time, knowing the things she knew, she'd always been aware of a distance. And now there was no Hermione to talk to about it.

Ginny waved to Hagrid quickly, ducking out of sight before he could question her about Harry in his turn. All she wanted was to eat a speedy dinner and go to bed. There was a thick, chilly fog around them, which only worsened her mood. Leaving her friends, Ginny jumped into a carriage occupied by a group of second years. They were far too in awe of her to talk, and they reached the castle in record time.

Jumping down, Ginny's heart sank when she saw Professor McGonagall waiting at the door, her mouth thin and her arms crossed. Nodding at her, she said, "Come with me, Miss Weasley."

Ginny sighed, but there was nothing for it, and she followed the Headmistress to an empty classroom. Sitting down, Ginny stared at her hands – she had a premonition that this would be the hardest conversation of all.

McGonagall cleared her throat and said, "Well, Miss Weasley, I'm sure you know why I wish to speak with you."

Ginny shrugged. "I have an inkling."

The older woman's mouth twitched. "Have you any idea where Mr Potter has gone?"

Ginny shook her head. "None."

"And if you did know, you wouldn't tell me, would you?"

Ginny nodded. "If…Harry wanted you to know, Professor, he would have said something. But he didn't tell me anything." She had to stop for a moment there, to control a sudden wave of anger at him, at the position she found herself in.

McGonagall sighed and said, "Very well Miss Weasley, I had hoped…"

"I'm sorry Professor."

"Not to worry. The Order… this is to go no further than yourself, you understand?"

Ginny nodded, and the Headmistress continued, "Well, the Order has received one or two messages – Remus Lupin was good enough to interpret them for us."

Ginny took a deep breath. "So… they're all right… they're not..?"

The Professor eyed her sympathetically. "All indications are good… if I should hear anything to the contrary, I will inform you."

Ginny stood. "Thank you, Professor."

"There is one more thing."

"Oh?"

Professor McGonagall held a red and gold badge out to her. "With Mr Potter gone, we are without a Quidditch Captain."

A wave of revulsion swept through Ginny's stomach – this is Harry's position, _Harry's_ job, not hers. It must have shown in her face, for her teacher added, "You are the player with most experience, and Madam Hooch mentioned that…"

Ginny was barely listening to the words, and numbly she stretched out her hand to take the badge, trying to decide whether she should play as Seeker or Chaser this year. Her head hurt, and she wanted to run outside and kick the wall and yell at the sheer unfairness of it all, but she merely nodded at McGonagall and made her way out.

Ginny had always loved Quidditch, and, if it hadn't been for Harry, it would easily have been the best aspect of her fifth year. Playing, really playing, on a good team, on a team that actually worked together, and winning. She bit her lip as she remembered.

Harry was working them harder then ever – Ginny hadn't seen him the determined since the last days of the DA. Mind you, that really wasn't a fair comparison – at least he was laughing these days. In fact, ever since she'd started impersonating Ron swearing as he missed the Quaffle, Harry had been laughing a lot. And he was around more.

_It made no sense; she'd known Harry for years, he was good friends with Ron and Hermione, so of course, he'd always been _around_. And yet, it was true. Somehow Harry was far more present than he'd ever been before – Ginny saw him all the time. He'd pop up when she was in the library, or walk her back from Quidditch practise, and he always, always sat beside her at dinner. Ginny would have had to be utterly foolish not to notice that this behaviour had peaked since she'd broken things off with Dean, but she couldn't quite make the leap of faith to believe what Hermione had been insinuating – after all, this was _Harry

_After everything that had happened this year – that horrible fight with Ron, which she still hated to think about, the coldness between her and Hermione that lasted for so long_ _– Ginny wasn't sure she had it in her to get imagine Harry could be interested. Not after seeing her at her absolute worst._

_Anyway, she waved at Harry and mimicked him falling sharply off his broomstick – he looked so determined that she couldn't resist the temptation to make him laugh. Racing forwards to catch the Quaffle, Ginny was shocked to hear a Harry yell. Looking back, she saw a Bludger had hit him. Again._

_This was the third time tonight, and Ginny decided it was time to call a halt. She didn't know why he'd become so addicted to being hit by fast-moving, heavy objects, but it was a bad habit, and she was determined to put a stop to it._

_With a minimal amount of yelling, Ginny managed to get everyone back to the changing room. Having removed her robes, she turned to Harry and said, "Are you okay?"_

_He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"_

_Ginny stared. "You got hit in the ribs – twice – by a Bludger, and on your leg. You must be bruised or something."_

_Harry grinned. "I don't feel anything."_

"_Well that's because you've clearly become immune to pain. How many times have you been hit in the last week?"_

_Harry looked uncomfortable, and said, "I don't know. A few?"_

"_Many, Harry. Have you at least checked for bruises?"_

"_No. I can't see my own back Ginny. But, maybe…" She was astonished to see Harry blushing, ever so slightly, "You could…"_

_Ron joined them, grumbling loudly about the two goals he'd let in during practise, and Ginny was left to stare at Harry. Had he really just suggested she see him without his shirt? And if he had, did she have even the least problem with it?_

Of course not. But, this was Harry – unfortunately, he was the least likely person in the world to suggest anything 'inappropriate.' At least, not with her.

Ginny shook her head – this was not the way to enjoy her year at Hogwarts. However if she wanted to spend her time moping around and being generally miserable, she was certainly on the right track.

She made her way down to the Great Hall, where she act a quick dinner, chatted with Jules, Neville and Demelza, and glared fiercely at anyone who asked her about Harry. She laughed at peoples' jokes and chattered gaily to Dean as she made her way up to the Portrait Hole, and when she finally reached her dorm she sank down on her bed with a deep sigh of relief.

The next morning she woke up to sun shining through her window, Jules grinning at her and Hedwig sitting on the windowsill. Letting her in, Ginny found a packet containing a blank sheet of parchment, an old mirror and a Sneakoscope.

Perplexed, she opened the letter. For one glorious moment she thought it was from Harry, before she recognized Hermione's handwriting. Her heart sank further as she read the brief, obviously hurriedly written, note.

_Dear Ginny_,

_I know this comes as a bit of a surprise, but things have been getting a bit busy lately, and Harry says it's too dangerous to send owls any more, and that we should send Hedwig to you, to avoid temptation. Don't worry though – we're all fine. **Really**_

_You can ask Fred and George about the map – it may come in handy. For now 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good' and 'Mischief managed' are two phrases you should remember. I don't know if it'll come in useful, but you should keep it and the mirror on you at all times if possible._

_Ron thought you should have a Sneakoscope, given, well…you know – and he says it's a belated birthday present. I'm really sorry I can't write more, but I've got about two seconds to write this in. We all miss you._

_Love, Hermione_

Suddenly, it felt like it would immense effort to get through the day.


	3. A Time to Gather Stones Together

Chapter Two: A Time to Gather Stones Together

Ginny walked back to Gryffindor tower wearily. The quidditch practise had been an absolute disaster, and she was quite seriously considering hanging herself from her four-poster. Her Beaters were good of course, and Demelza was improving all the time, and the new Keeper, Alice Dakin, while not as talented as Ron was at least more consistent, but her Chasers… Ginny didn't know what to do with them. Dean was pretty good, even if he did get distracted fairly easily, but the new one, Ella Parker, was absolutely terrible. Oh, she could fly well enough, and catch the Quaffle and score the occasional goal, but she had no grasp of the way Chasers were supposed to work together as a team.

And the worst thing was, Ginny didn't even care. It was well known that Hufflepuff's Chasers were appalling, and as long as she could catch the Snitch fairly early on they'd be fine.

Fenrir Greyback had murdered an Auror the night before – Ginny had seen it in the _Daily Prophet_. She didn't want to think about who it could be – there was more than enough to worry about. There'd been an attack on the Gringotts in Dublin, Muggle-killings in Manchester and York, and a pitched battle somewhere near Hogwarts. What did a Quidditch match matter?

Ginny stopped, leaning against the wall for a moment. She massaged the bridge of her nose tiredly, thinking of Harper's expression when they'd pulled him out of class that morning. She'd never particularly liked – he lapped up all the Slytherin blood nonsense like a not particularly intelligent dog – but she had a suspicion the Auror had been his father. Remembering what it had been like when her Dad was hovering between life and death, Ginny couldn't wish that on anyone.

She hadn't received any letters in weeks, aside from an extremely brief note from her Mum. McGonagall had no news, at least none that she cared to share, and though there were Aurors posted around Hogwarts, Tonks wasn't one of them, so it was impossible to get any information that way. Ginny had been reduced to scouring each day's newspaper, looking for any reference, coded or not, to the people she cared about.

But there hadn't been any. Well, there'd been an ad for Weasley's Defence Products, but that was pretty much it. It was starting to drive her crazy – what were they doing? Where were they? Did they think about her, did they miss her? Or was she just a girl to have fun with?

Ginny shook her head, pushing off from the wall. Now was not the time. She had potions homework to do, and astronomy observations to make, and so _what_ if she kept thinking she saw the Dark Mark over Hogsmeade?

No news was probably good news anyway.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when someone touched her shoulder; in a moment she spun and drew her wand, nearly poking Ernie McMillan in the throat. "Sorry," he said, "Terribly sorry. Could I talk to you for a minute?"

Warily Ginny lowered her wand. Ernie seemed to relax at that, and ushered her into the Room of Requirement. Clearly her mind had been wandering, because this wasn't anywhere near where she was supposed to be.

Sitting inside, on some rather comfortable chairs, were Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Neville. They all had sombre expressions, and Ginny sat down slowly; this couldn't possibly bode well. Ernie coughed, striding across the room, and said, "Well, Ginny, I think you can probably guess why we're here."

A contrary urge to be perverse seized her momentarily, and Ginny had to swallow several sharp words before saying, "I have an idea."

Neville must have caught the expression on her face, because he leaned forward and said, "The thing is, Ginny, that we want to do what we did before."

Ginny nodded, thinking back to the training sessions with the DA. Some of the curses Harry had taught had come very useful during her last encounter with Death Eaters. She smiled at Neville. "You want to start Dumbledore's Army again." The others seemed saddened when she said his name.

Susan Bones nodded. "It's even more important now. We all… we all know what the Death Eaters are doing, the people they've killed. We need to be ready for them."

Ginny tried to smile at her, but couldn't quite get there. She knew the look in Susan's eyes – she'd seen it in her Mum's, whenever she talked about her brothers, or in Neville's, that day in St Mungo's, or in…Harry's. Swallowing heavily she said, "Well, I think that's a good idea. Let me know when the meetings begin."

Rather sharply, the others bent their eyes to the floor, shifting their feet and fiddling with their wands, and a sudden sense of familiarity hit Ginny. For this reason alone she didn't yell with surprise when Terry said, "The thing is, Ginny, we were hoping that you could…lead us."

"What? Are you mad? You're Seventh Years."

Michael shrugged. "But we've not fought Death Eaters, have we? You have, twice now – people listen to you."

Ginny wanted to back away, wanted to run out of the room as quickly as possible, but she could only say faintly, "So has Neville."

"Neville doesn't want it." Ernie said this with his usual pomposity, and Ginny looked at her friend sharply. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"What about Luna? She fought in the Department of Mysteries."

Terry laughed shortly. "Come on Ginny, Loony Lovegood? You can't be serious."

Ginny stood up, practically seething now. How dare they insult Luna? How dared they disparage one of the few people who'd actually been bothered to defend Hogwarts?

She was seriously considering hexing Ernie on the spot, when Neville said, his tones steely, "Luna saved Ginny's life."

That shut Terry up, and Ginny cast Neville an affectionate look. She was sure he'd had nothing to do with this fait accompli. And it was about time someone stood up for Luna.

She didn't want to do this – she wasn't a leader, not really. It was all very well to say people would listen to her, and perhaps they might, but she _couldn't_ be leader of the DA. She just couldn't.

Yet, she would have to – Ginny knew this. There wasn't anyone else – as little as she liked it, she knew Neville didn't yet have the confidence to pull this off, and as much as she loved her, Luna was too erratic to really teach.

But, how could she teach? Oh, Ginny knew she was a powerful witch – she could put more force into her hexes than most people dreamt of – but she had no idea how to communicate just where she located that power. It was just there – she knew how to do it, because she knew how to do it, the same way she knew how to twist out of the path of a Bludger, how to style her hair so it would dangle down her back gracefully but not get in her eyes, how to tease a secret out of Hermione. These were things she knew or had learned at some time, and she was grateful for it, but how on earth could she ever explain it?

The others were still watching her, and she said, "Look, I don't know…I'll do it. I might not be much good, but…if you're all agreed?"

They nodded, and Ginny wanted to curse them all. Susan, for one, was probably almost as powerful as she was, and a Seventh Year, and rather more academic to boot, but still…this was how it had to be.

"Okay then," she said, "I'll do it. But, the thing is, half the original DA is gone – Cho Chang, Angelina Johnson, Padma and Parvati, Zacharias – if we want to do this properly, if we want to practise duelling, we need to recruit. Talk to the people in your houses, try and rustle up some interest, but not too many people below fourth year, if possible. Unless they're very good, they won't be able to handle a lot of it, and I don't think we should give first years the idea that they're ready to face Death Eaters."

They nodded, and Susan said, "Well, I think we should get back. Don't want the guards catching us out."

Ginny nodded, and said, "Today's Monday, first meeting here, on Thursday night. It won't take long – just an introduction."

They thanked her, said goodnight, and left. Finally Ginny was left alone with Neville. She shook her head at him and said, "Did you know this was going to happen?"

"Yeah – I would've warned you, but…"

"I would've run for the hills."

Neville nodded ruefully. "Pretty much."

Tears pricked Ginny's eyes, and she said, "I can't do this."

Neville looked at her sharply, and said, "Of course you can."

It was harder to keep the sob from her voice this time, but Ginny just about managed it. "I'm not Harry, Neville."

He grinned. "Well, you're an awful lot prettier, for one."

She half-laughed. "You're a git – you could have told me."

"You'd have run for the hills."

"So?"

Neville laughed, and after a moment or two of silence they left the room. Neville told her about his latest find in Herbology, and Ginny mused silently on her new task. It was repugnant to her – stepping into Harry's shoes once again – and she found it hard to concentrate on her work that evening.

She wanted Hermione. Hermione would have understood why Ginny felt the way she did, and how she could have dealt with it – and furthermore, had Hermione been there, no doubt she would have been made leader, and then Ginny wouldn't have had to do it.

She spent nearly half an hour trying to convince Jules to join the DA, before giving up in despair – Jules had always been hopeless at Defence, and had given it up gladly after their OWLs. There was no way she would even consider doing it again.

Ginny lay awake for a long time that night, thinking back on the one conversation she'd ever had with Harry that had touched on this subject.

_It was a beautiful day – far too beautiful to spend indoors – and so they were sitting out by the lake. The trees were clothed in tender new leaves, the wind had that blossom scent of spring, and there were even birds singing. It could have been ridiculous._

_Ginny was leaning against Harry's chest, his hands stroking her hair. It was oddly soothing, something she more than appreciated after a particularly gruelling Transfiguration lesson. Earlier they'd eaten sandwiches and Harry had taught her how to skim a stone on the lake – he'd blushed when she declared it was 'all in the wrist.'_

_Now they were leaning against a tree, comfortable, and Ginny couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be. Still, she couldn't quite help a yawn – Harry chuckled. She felt the happy vibration in his chest, and looked up at him, smiling. "Am I boring you?" he said._

_"No – it's just Transfiguration. It's foul, Harry – I spent all last night working on it, and I still don't get it."_

_"I thought you'd find it easy."_

_"Where'd you get that idea?"_

_"Well the twins said how strong you are once."_

_"There's a bit more to it than that, Harry – just ask Hermione. She's already told me, three times."_

_"You're still a pretty impressive witch, Ginny."_

_She couldn't help it – she blushed. Harry grinned, and grinned some more, and finally she had to poke him in the gut. "Stop it," she said, "It's embarrassing."_

_He stroked her hair again. "I think it's cute."_

_"I don't – I think I look like a…"_

_"Strawberry?"_

_"Tomato."_

_Harry sighed, giving in. "You haven't done that in ages," he said._

_"Thank God. I looked ridiculous."_

_He shook his head, his bright eyes dancing. "You were never ridiculous."_

_Ginny was smiling so hard she half-feared her face would split. She'd never thought this would happen; it had been a wasted dream, locked away somewhere, haunting her._

_Out of nowhere Harry said, "I like your smell."_

_She didn't quite know how to take that – it was incredibly flattering, but she was amazed he'd even noticed. Stretching just a little, Ginny leaned up and kissed him._

_Kissing Harry was like nothing else in the world – she didn't even have words to describe it. She was full to the brim with sunshine._

_It felt so good that for a moment Ginny didn't notice that somehow they'd twisted up, and Harry was now lying on top of her. She'd always dreaded the idea of being somehow pinned down like this – and she'd never let things get so far with Dean – and perhaps Harry suspected that she might be thinking just such a thought, because he pulled away from her and said, in a ragged tone of voice, "Is this all right?"_

_And the odd thing was, it was. If there was one thing Ginny knew, it was that Harry would never, **ever** hurt her. She felt as safe as she had when she was a toddler and being held by her Mum or Dad, or Bill. Only, excited too – joyful, as though she was soaring somewhere, on the fastest broomstick in the world._

_She nodded, somewhat breathless, and Harry said, "This is…if it was, Ginny, I wouldn't…"_

_She nodded, "I know."_

_"'Cause, I don't want you to hex me."_

_"Like you'd worry about me with a wand in my hand."_

_Harry's voice was husky as he said, "I'm sure there's a lot you could teach me, Ginny."_

_She nodded, transfixed; his eyes were burning, so strong, with…desire, it thrilled right down to her toes._

_Then Harry smiled, and bent his head, and kissed her quite fiercely._

It had been so beautiful, so perfect – and now he was gone. And for the first time, Ginny knew, as she struggled to find sleep, just how much she needed Harry. He was her leader; he was hope.


	4. A Time to Rend

Chapter Three: A Time to Rend

Neville, Luna and Susan Bones were picking up the last of the cushions as Ginny read the Marauder's Map. Although Ginny was nearly positive McGonagall knew about and approved of the re-formed DA, after what had happened last year, she thought it never hurt to be careful. Hogwarts wasn't nearly as impregnable as the history books would have you believe, and given that the sessions often lasted till late in the evening, Ginny thought it was good to keep watch.

The session had gone rather well, all things considered. There'd been a lot of laughing and joking around, but people were working well. Admittedly, Ginny still couldn't get over her initial discomfort with the role, not even when Ernie had informed that he considered her an excellent teacher. Somehow, it wasn't very comforting. She'd even wanted to deck him when he'd insinuated that really, Harry should have kept the DA going last year, Ernie couldn't think why he hadn't, perhaps it was because Harry lacked a certain…vision. Perhaps Ernie had seen a certain glint in her eye at that point, because he'd backed away hurriedly, saying that of course he didn't mean…

Ginny shrugged ruefully. Maybe Ernie was just a pompous git, or maybe she'd have to accept that the news she was single had spread. Or…maybe the fact that it was the last week of November and she hadn't heard a thing from Harry, Ron or Hermione was making her unduly irritable.

It was ridiculous to worry so much – Ginny knew that they had no owls, no way of contacting her, and yet… The worry was driving her mad. The last she'd heard from her Mum, she hadn't heard anything either, and Professor McGonagall had claimed similar ignorance once Ginny plucked up the courage to ask her.

The worst was hearing the rumours that had spread around the school. One week Harry was being held at the bottom of a dried out well, the next he was battling an army of Dementors, and the third he'd been rushed to St Mungo's in the middle of the night. Ginny had a horrible feeling that last one was actually true, from an odd comment in one of her Mum's letters, but she had nothing to confirm her suspicion.

Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini had evidently heard the rumours too, for they lost no opportunity of informing her that "Potter's dead – along with the Mudblood, and that stupid brother of yours." Ginny hadn't hexed either of them yet, a mark, she thought, of her admirable restraint. It was all too much – especially on top of the news that Charlie had been injured (not seriously, but still) in Romania.

Ginny had taken to scanning the pages of the _Prophet_ for nearly half an hour every day. She had yet to see any mention of them, but at least she felt like she was doing something. Luna claimed Harry had discovered the secret castle of Merlin in a hidden valley, something Ginny tended to doubt. Given Harry's general stance towards History of Magic, he probably wouldn't be particularly interested in Merlin anyway. Hermione however, would have been fascinated.

She left the Room of Requirement with Neville and Susan; Luna split off from them fairly early on. Neville and Susan were in the middle of an animated discussion about Herbology.

"But, it's not as if Mandrakes even need a great deal of care."

"They're still too dangerous to be kept in a school, Neville. What if someone broke one of the pots? I mean, they can be useful, but surely there needs to be better control."

Neville scoffed – Ginny grinned to herself to see this confidence. Usually, Neville wasn't the most confident with girls, but when it came to discussing his favourite subject… "This is the same old thing," he said, "It's always the same. All the interesting plants need to be banned, because someone might get into trouble. You'll go after mimbulus mimbletonia next."

Susan shook her head at him. "You know very well that's not true," she said. "Besides, didn't you hear what happened that time they tried to grow triffids? That was a disaster, wasn't it, when the triffids got free?"

Neville sighed impatiently, "But that's different, Susan, because…" He hadn't even noticed the admiring look in Susan's eyes.

Ginny let them argue, preferring to think over the events of that evenings sessions. There'd been a bit of resistance to her idea – to prepare them for proper defence by pitting _Rictusempra_ against _Stupefy _– but she had a feeling the practicalities of fighting Death Eaters had dawned on at least some of them by the end.

They were forced to detour briefly, as Moaning Myrtle was in the middle of a blazing row with Peeves – Ginny thought she heard the words 'Your boyfriend' – and when they rounded the corner they saw the wall with the Heir of Slytherin's message on it.

Ginny had seen the writing on the wall far too many times by now to be upset by it – in fact, she was so amused by Neville and Susan's mating dance, that she didn't even notice anything different until they fell silent. Neville was staring at her sympathetically, and it took a moment for Ginny to realise what had put that look on his face. Someone had added a sentence to Tom Riddle's message – it now read 'Her Skeleton Will Lie in the Chamber Forever, For She Will Be My Bride." Ginny couldn't help herself – she giggled.

It was just so ridiculous. And yet… Susan was staring at her, and Ginny felt something clamp in her stomach. Neville started to say, "Are you all right…" but before he'd finished his sentence, Ginny was running.

For the rest of her life Ginny would never know just how she made it back to Gryffindor Tower so quickly. She vaguely heard the Fat Lady shouting indignantly as she made her way through the portrait hole, but she was halfway up the stairs before it really registered.

Mercifully, Ginny's dorm was empty – Jules was practising her Charm work with a friend of hers from Ravenclaw, and the rest of the girls were probably looking at the Quidditch pitch from the Common Room window. The Hufflepuff team always had the best looking players, though Ginny didn't see how it mattered, since they rarely won.

Right now, however, she really didn't care. She flung herself onto her bed, desperately trying to think. She knew where she'd been, what she'd been doing, didn't she?

Ginny thought she did, but it was like trying to Arithmancy when someone was kicking you in the head – she could barely think through the whirl of panic.

It wasn't possible. It just wasn't. Dumbledore had said…but it wasn't as if Dumbledore never made a mistake. Ginny could _not_ go through that again.

She sat up slowly, pressing her fists against her temples. For one horrible moment she thought she was going to get sick over the side of the bed, but she managed, barely, to restrain the urge. Taking a deep breath, Ginny forced herself to think logically. Even _if_ Dumbledore was wrong, and there had been lasting effects – and that was hardly likely – why would Voldemort do it? Harry had killed the Basilisk, and Ginny had a feeling that Voldemort would have more important things to worry about, such as fighting the war.

At least, she hoped so.

Ginny let that thought sink in until she almost believed it, and lay back slowly on the bed. Her head sank into the pillow, which was nice and cool, and she could feel tears sliding from her eyes and into her hair. She was so tired of being afraid all the time. Eventually, Ginny curled up, her threadbare teddy-bare cuddled to her stomach, trying not to think about the writing on the wall.

She couldn't have been there for more than a few minutes, but she was almost asleep when she heard someone say, "Ginny!"

At first she assumed it was Jules, but as the voice called out a second, in a tone of great exasperation, Ginny realized who it was. Only Hermione could inject that particular note of impatience into her voice, but…

"GINNY!"

She finally located the source in the small hand mirror she'd left sitting on her bedside table. For the first few weeks of term she'd carried it around with her, but when nothing ever happened it had become just another reminder that she had no idea where the trio were.

Cupping the mirror in her hand, she saw Hermione's face. Her friend looked exhausted – her hair was severely tied back, there were dark circles under her eyes, and two small cuts on her right cheekbone.

Unable to contain herself, Ginny said, "Hermione! How are you? Are you…"

The next thing she heard was "Miss Weasley!"

Turning around slowly, Ginny saw Professor McGonagall standing in the doorway. Putting the hand that held the mirror by her side, she stood up, saying, "Professor?"

"Are you all right?"

Ginny nodded fervently, all too well aware that her face was tear-stained. Her Professor frowned, and said, "I saw Mr Longbottom a few minutes ago; he seemed to think you might be upset."

"Oh…that's nice of him. But…" Ginny was going to say 'I'm fine', but changed her mind. She already knew McGonagall wouldn't believe it.

The Headmistress sighed and said, "It was a group of Slytherin students, I believe, led by Theodore Nott. Mr Filch is removing it as we speak."

Ginny's entire body sagged with relief. Of course she had known that it wasn't, couldn't be her, but…it was still nice to be sure. McGonagall gave her a sharp nod and said, "Well. You'd best get some rest, Miss Weasley."

Ginny nodded again and said, "I will. Thank you, Professor."

The older woman made as if to leave the room, but paused, saying, "How is your Defence group going?"

"It's…it's good. Not, not perfect, but…good. It's still the DA."

McGonagall gave Ginny a long, measuring kind of look before saying, "Very good." There was approval in her voice, and it gave Ginny a kind of glow inside.

It faded as soon as the door closed. Ginny leaped on to the bed and closed the curtains in an instant – Hermione had barely time to hiss her name.

Unease stirring in her stomach, she said, "What is it?"

Hermione spoke rapidly. "Ginny, I need you to do research for me. Anything you can find out about Rowena Ravenclaw – where she came from, who she married, toadstools she turned into dolls, anything… Then when you've done that…"

"Hermione, hang on. What's happened?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't have time to talk. You need to do this _now_ Ginny."

"But I don't even…"

"Look, when you're done, get everything you have together, any notes, and bring them to the Whomping Willow, say tomorrow morning. Leave them there, somewhere safe, and we'll pick them up later."

"Okay, but…how are you?"

Hermione's face was creased in an expression of worry, and she said, "Look, Ginny I really can't talk right now."

"Has Harry been in hospital?"

For the first time Ginny felt like she had her friend's complete attention. "Where did you hear that?" Hermione snapped.

Ginny shrugged. "Just around. There are an awful lot of rumours, you know. But Mum had some really weird comment in her last letter, and that just made me think… Is he okay, Hermione?"

Of all things, Hermione's face had a slightly pitying expression on it, and Ginny had to restrain the urge to snap at her. Eventually however, her friend sighed and said, "Look, Ginny, it's not…He's fine – we just had to keep it quiet. You really don't have to worry."

She must have seen the expression on Ginny's face, for she back-pedalled swiftly and said, "I just mean…if anything serious happened – we'd find you, Ginny, I promise."

Feeling yet another sob press against her throat, Ginny nodded, sniffling slightly. Hermione's sharp eyes must have caught the gesture, for she said, "Why have you been crying?"

Ginny shook her head, though she knew it wouldn't work. "It's nothing."

"Ginny." Hermione's voice carried a clear warning.

"It's…some of the Slytherins decided to try a little graffiti, down near Myrtle's bathroom, you know? Anyway, apparently they think I'm the Bride of Voldemort, or something, because…" Ginny cut herself off sharply – she wasn't going to start crying again.

"I'm really sorry, Ginny."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I wish…I know there's no one you can talk to about…"

"Yeah. Well, that's why you need to come back soon. I can't keep first years off your table forever you know."

Hermione grinned, and said, "I wish…look, Ginny, I really have to go. By the Whomping Willow, okay? As early as possible."

Ginny nodded, and a moment later, Hermione was gone. Ginny put the mirror away, and was about to make a run for the door, when Jules entered, yawning.

She smiled at Ginny, and said, "How was the DA?"

Distracted, Ginny said, "Oh – it was fine. Charms?"

"Don't ask. I'm never going to get that water one. Where are you going?"

"I have to see someone."

"It's after nine." Jules was looking at her curiously.

"I know, but…it's important, Jules."

"Yeah, I figured. It always is with you."

Ginny stared at her friend – though she wasn't quite as close to Jules as Louise had been, she'd never been on the receiving end of that tone before. "What do you mean?"

"Just…you've got all your 'important' things going on and…you think I'm lazy or something 'cause I don't want to practise with you, or talk about Death Eaters all the time. Like I'm less."

Ginny sighed – she was really not in the mood. "Look, Jules," she said, "I want you to join the DA, because I like to think that you can do everything to defend yourself, if you have to. And since my brothers, one of my best friends, and my ex-boyfriend are out fighting those Death Eaters, so it's kind of an important issue for me. Now I really have to go."

Jules shrugged. "I think you enjoy it – all the attention – all the boys."

Finally giving into the anger that she knew wasn't even all about Jules, Ginny said, "Look, those are the people who maimed Bill, the people who put Louise to sleep…it is important, and it does matter."

And with that, she left the room, slamming the door as she left. She needed to find Luna Lovegood.


	5. A Time to Keep Silence

A Time to Keep Silence

Jules' foot was raised to about knee level, and she was wiggling her toes with a pensive look on her face. "You know, " she said, "I think you're right, Luna. Bottle green really isn't a good colour on toe-nails." Luna smiled beatifically, and made a note from one of the twelve dozen books by her side.

Jules wasn't actually much help in researching Rowena Ravenclaw – as demonstrated by her spending this evening painting her nails – but she served as a welcome distraction from what was becoming an increasingly frustrating task. Researching Rowena Ravenclaw was a lot harder than Ginny had expected it to be.

She'd known, of course, that since Hogwarts had been founded in the Dark Ages, that the sources, the 'verifiable fact' that Binns was so fond of, would be thin on the ground. What Ginny hadn't counted on, was the immense number of Pureblood families that claimed to be related to Rowena Ravenclaw, to have married someone related to Rowena Ravenclaw, to have once shaken hands with Rowena Ravenclaw, or even to have lived within a seventy-mile radius of Rowena Ravenclaw.

If reading about the murders of Muggles and Muggle-borns everyday hadn't been enough to thoroughly disillusion Ginny with the so-called 'pureblood culture,' having to wade through so many nonsensical claims would have done the job.

Every few days either she or Neville would leave a scroll by the Whomping Willow, but it seemed a meaningless task. Especially since they had no real idea what they were looking _for_; Hermione's request had been so broad as to be effectively useless.

Of course, that might just be Ginny's somewhat impatient temperament. Luna truly enjoyed the research, seeming equally fascinated by Ravenclaw's love of ducks as her notorious duelling ability – even Godric Gryffindor had hesitated to do battle with Ravenclaw.

Neville quirked an eyebrow at her, and said, "Want me to do it tomorrow?"

Ginny sighed, knowing he could sense her frustration, and said, "Will you have time?"

Neville shrugged. "The Hogwarts Express doesn't leave until half ten, so…I'll just pack before I go to bed."

Ginny smiled at him. Neville was so perfect. He had the soul of a gentleman, and it was just a little unfortunate that a gentleman would have bored Ginny stiff (if nothing else, going out with Dean had taught her that.) Not of course, that she thought Neville had ever been interested in her – but especially now that he'd gained a little confidence, it really seemed that Neville would be a nice, stable, gentle boyfriend for any girl.

There was a reason Susan was already half-smitten.

But Ginny didn't want a gentleman – she wanted Quidditch games, and jokes, and fierce rows, and even fiercer kisses, and it was just her bad luck that the one person in the world who…

She cut that train of thought off as quickly as possible. Some of the things she'd read in the _Prophet_ recently had made her very uncomfortable; she had the distinct impression Harry had irritated the Minister even more than usual. A great deal of this was supposition, but considering what she knew about Scrimgeour, well…he probably deserved it.

But, being so far away from everyone, meant that all her guesses were fragile, tentative things, and that she worried far more about these situations than she normally would. If nothing else, she was looking forward to going home for Christmas because she could depend on the twins to give her the actual _facts_.

Jules stretched her arms over her head, yawning, then said, "I think I'm about ready to go to bed. Ginny?"

Ginny took a long look at the sheets of parchment spread out around her, and finally decided, that yes, they had exhausted every possible avenue of research. She, Neville and Luna should at least get to enjoy the last night before the holidays, while Jules surely deserved to actually see her dormitory again.

She nodded, and Neville immediately sprang into action, gathering the miscellaneous sheets, and sorting them into a coherent order that Hermione would probably swoon over.

Thankfully, they didn't have to clean up the half-eaten Chocolate Frogs, broken quills and piles of crumbs that always seemed to accumulate when they used the Room of Requirement.

Jules was describing a warm bath and a hot water bottle in reverential tones, and Ginny felt somewhat guilty for sweeping her into this whole mess. It had been hard to know what to do – Jules had felt neglected, and then angry, and they'd shared some less than civil words about the DA. In the end, Ginny had compromised – she didn't want to lose her friend, and so she allowed Jules to join the 'Skull Sessions' (as she insisted on calling them, for reasons known only to herself) so long as she didn't ask any questions. Especially those questions which Ginny didn't know the answers to.

Neville chose to walk Luna back to the Ravenclaw common room – he'd been listening to her description of Snozzcumbers with a certain pained patience when they left. Jules, meanwhile, took this opportunity to tell Ginny about her latest find.

"You remember Liam Darling, don't you? In Hufflepuff, plays Quidditch?"

Ginny chewed on her lip absently. "One of the good-looking ones?"

Jules sighed. "Yeah. Well, he's sat beside me three times in Ancient Runes… And the other day, he asked me for help."

Jules and Ginny didn't share many subjects, mainly because, with the single exception of Astronomy, which she loved too much to ever give up, Ginny had chosen the subjects required to become a Healer.

It had been one of her childhood dreams – along with owning a doll that wouldn't be dismembered by the twins, being as good a Quidditch player as Charlie, going to Hogwarts, and (since the age of eleven) marrying Harry Potter and having beautiful, skinny, short-sighted babies with him. She just wasn't sure she actually wanted it anymore.

"I thought I might ask him to go to Hogsmeade, after Christmas, but…did you hear the rumour?"

"What rumour?" Ginny asked.

"Oh," Jules said, eyeing her cautiously, "Lavender Brown said they might close the school down. Did…did they say anything to you?"

Ginny shook her head. Jules overestimated Ginny's relationship with Professor McGonagall – she certainly wasn't kept anywhere near as well informed as Jules seemed to think. Unfortunately, Jules wasn't the only person operating under that assumption, and scarcely a day went by when Ginny wasn't asked if she'd heard something.

She couldn't blame people for being anxious – not when the number of deaths being reported by the _Prophet_ seemed to increase every day – but she honestly didn't know anything, and she was becoming increasingly frustrated at having to explain this to everyone. She'd made herself quite unpopular.

Not to mention that it made her even more nervous to be so frequently reminded of all the terrible things that were happening in the world, and how she knew nothing really, and hadn't heard from her family, or friends, and they were out there fighting a war, and Ginny was just hiding in school, like a good-little-girl, like a slug, a fat, loathsome, lazy slug…

Unfortunately, Jules' belief that Ginny knew more than she was telling was to be given additional fuel when she saw Nearly-Headless Nick waiting for them at the Portrait Hole. He bowed courteously, which had the unfortunate effect of dislodging his head for the umpteenth time, and said, "Miss Weasley, Professor McGonagall has requested that you go to the Headmistress' office."

Ginny was still somewhat bemused by this summons – it could hardly be serious if Nick had been entrusted with it – when Jules took her bag. "I'll dump it on your bed, okay?"

From the set of her shoulders Ginny could tell that her friend was annoyed at her, again, but there simply wasn't time to indulge in yet another explanation. In any case, Ginny knew that in fact Jules irritation wasn't about her. The Death Eaters had murdered her parents during the first war, and though Jules lived with her grandfather, and seemed very happy… It was more than understandable that Jules would feel angry.

Nearly Headless Nick seemed to be in a gregarious mood, and after ten minutes of his tiptoeing around the subject of Harry, Ginny finally had to say, "I'm not his girlfriend anymore, all right! I don't know anything."

Honestly! If one more person assumed… What did she need to do, put up a sign? Thankfully, Nick was so irritated with this response that he didn't attempt to join the meeting.

The Headmistress' office was warm, a fire popping and crackling in the grate, and Ginny had a sudden urge to curl up in front of it and sleep, like a cat. This wasn't the time however, and she sat down in front of the desk, accepting the biscuit Professor McGonagall offered her.

"Miss Weasley, I'm sorry to keep you from your bed tonight, but…"

McGonagall's voice trailed off, and Ginny said, "It's fine, Professor."

Her teacher sighed deeply, staring down at her desk, and after a long pause Ginny felt the need to say, "Professor, was there something particular you needed to say?"

McGonagall cleared her throat and said, "Miss Weasley, this may seem…somewhat unorthodox. I received a message last Sunday from a member of the Order."

Ginny nodded. She had no idea where this was going, but she nodded, her interest sparked as the Headmistress continued. "This…man has come upon some information which he feels the need to communicate to Harry Potter."

"I don't understand."

McGonagall too off her glasses, and cleaned with a handkerchief, while looking at anything in the room – except Ginny. "Unfortunately, Mr Potter seems to be missing."

"Missing?" Ginny couldn't contain this yelp of alarm.

"That is correct. The last contact we had with Mr Potter, or Miss Granger, or your brother was ten days ago."

"Ten days?" Adrenalin surged in Ginny's stomach, and she had to check the urge to Floo out of Hogwarts that very moment.

"This has happened before, Miss Weasley…"

"What? You mean, they've disappeared for days on end, and you never told me?"

Colour flooded McGonagall's face, and she said, "There is no cause for alarm, Miss Weasley. Mr Potter informed us that this was possible, and had anything happened, we would be aware of it by now. If I may continue?"

"Yes," Ginny said, still reeling a little, "I'm sorry, Professor."

"Well, I informed Aberforth," McGonagall's mouth twisted oddly as she said the name, "Of the situation, and offered to courier the information to Mr Potter myself, if needs be. However, he apparently feels this is not an adequate solution, and has requested an alternative arrangement."

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I just don't…"

"He wants to meet with _you_, Miss Weasley."

"What? Why?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I believe Aberforth was in contact with Professor Dumbledore, before…and he may gathered that Mr Potter trusts you."

Almost involuntarily, Ginny said, "I'm not his girlfriend anymore! What do I have to do so people will realise this?"

McGonagall's mouth twitched, and Ginny rather thought she wanted to laugh, but she only said, "Nonetheless, Miss Weasley, I was rather hoping you would consider meeting with Aberforth tomorrow. I need hardly say that…probably it means nothing, but there is always the possibility…"

Ginny nodded. "Of course, Headmistress. But, I'm supposed to get the train tomorrow morning, perhaps we can…"

"In point of fact Miss Weasley, I had hoped to convince you to Floo home instead; you can use my fireplace."

"Well, that's sorted then, but…why?"

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow and said, "I suspect you already know why, Miss Weasley. I think it would be…imprudent to afford You-Know-Who an opportunity to gain leverage over Mr Potter."

"Oh…for heaven's sake, Professor, there's no reason, _no reason _at all to think…"

"Humour me, Miss Weasley."

Ginny couldn't quite stifle a laugh at the older woman's tone, chastened as she was. McGonagall continued. "Remus Lupin will accompany you to Hogsmeade, and you will wear an Invisibility Cloak, which Alastor Moody has consented to loan."

Ginny would have protested, if she'd thought there was even the slightest chance of Minerva McGonagall yielding – but there wasn't, so she said nothing. The Headmistress dismissed her, and Ginny hurried back to Gryffindor tower. She had a lot to think about.


	6. A Time to Lose

A Time to Lose

Ginny woke at an unpleasantly early hour the next morning – tossing and turning until she gave up the attempt to sleep again, and finally curling up in the window seat with a blanket. It was snowing heavily outside, and Ginny shivered as she saw a Thestral take flight over the forest; she still wasn't used to seeing them.

Ron hated the cold. He'd never, ever been any good with it; one of the reasons Mum made him so many jumpers. Hermione could always conjure one of her bluebell flames, and as for Harry…he'd told her once that he didn't really feel the cold. Ginny didn't like to think about why.

They'd been missing for weeks, _weeks_, out there with the wind and the snow, and Dementors, and far too many Dark Curses even to consider.

Ginny sighed, and might perhaps have made herself truly miserable, had Jules not woken. After moaning and groaning a little about getting out of bed, she sat beside Ginny, stroked her hair, and said, "Do you think they'll be home for Christmas?"

Ginny shrugged, attempting to force a tone of indifference into her voice. "I don't know, I mean…I'd like to think so, but…they'll be busy, and, like you've been saying, we only went out for a few weeks. He'll have more important things to…"

"Ginny," Jules interrupted, a guilty expression on her face, "I didn't mean to make you think…"

Ginny waved a hand dismissively. "I know, Jules, it's just…it's been months – it's a bit hard to keep the faith, and not a word from him."

"Ginny, you know…you know I think he's a bit of a dour git, but, I do remember…and, I never saw him look so much like a genuinely cheerful human being as when he was with you. Not ever. Everyone noticed."

"Maybe," Ginny said, "Look, I won't be on the train today."

Jules rolled her eyes. "Security again."

"Yeah, well, McGonagall's got a job for me, so…"

Jules slid off her seat, squealing as her feet touched the cold floor. "Good luck cleaning up the Transfiguration department."

Ginny smiled, but didn't correct her. She didn't want to lie to Jules, but it was impossible to tell the truth, especially when it made so little sense. Sighing she got to work packing her trunk, taking the time to admire the present Jules had bought for her older sister, Anna, who was a Squib.

Jules was evidently in a better humour than she had been lately, and cajoled Ginny down to breakfast. They had a cosy chat over pancakes and large mugs of hot chocolate, and Jules promised to owl her over Christmas. Unfortunately, Ginny barely had a moment to see Neville or Luna, though Neville had just enough time to tell her he'd delivered the scroll.

The castle was almost empty once the students had left for the train, and it felt very lonely to walk up to the Headmistress' office alone – indeed, it was positively eerie, bringing back memories Ginny preferred not to think about. It was a relief to see Remus Lupin waiting for her outside the door.

He shook Ginny's hand affectionately, passing on Tonks' greetings (evidently they would be at the Burrow for Christmas) but unfortunately he agreed with Professor McGonagall that Ginny would have to wear the Invisibility Cloak.

Coming to the end of what little patience she had with being swathed in cotton wool, Ginny smacked her hand down on the desk and said, "Will you at least tell me _why_ it's so important that I wear the cloak, when there's a couple of dozen Aurors stationed in Hogsmeade?"

McGonagall bristled and said, "You will wear the cloak, Miss Weasley, because Remus and I are agreed that it is for the best."

Ginny had the feeling that she could have continued in this vein for some time, but Lupin interrupted her, saying, "There is a reason, Ginny. Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban early yesterday morning."

Ginny couldn't help herself – she flinched as he said it, knowing all too well what Lucius Malfoy was capable of. Turning to McGonagall, she took a breath and collected herself enough to say, "And you think they'll send him after me."

McGonagall fixed Ginny with a beady eye. "We honestly have no idea, Miss Weasley. We received an anonymous tip, perhaps moments before his escape occurred, but…our correspondent can be somewhat cryptic. In any case, Lucius Malfoy is a dangerous and desperate man, with a noted grudge against your father; I do not intend to underestimate him. Were Aberforth not so…well, I would prefer it if you did not leave the school at all, but circumstances…"

"I understand, Professor," Ginny said, impressed in spite of herself. There was a very large part of Ginny that wanted to _be_ Minerva McGonagall when she grew up – if she ever grew up.

The interview evidently over, she and Lupin left the Headmistress' office. He directed her to one of the secret passages, evidently wanting to keep as much out of sight as possible. For most of the trip he asked her the usual questions adults ask when they can't think what to say – what subjects are you studying for your NEWTs? Do you know what you want to do after Hogwarts? How hard is it being Quidditch Captain?

Ginny participated willingly enough in this charade, but eventually she just had to say it.

"Have you heard anything from Harry?"

Lupin looked at her shrewdly, and Ginny continued haltingly, "Or…Ron, or Hermione? It's just, Professor McGonagall said he'd contacted you before, and I was hoping maybe you'd have heard something, since last night."

Lupin shook his head, but added, "I'd try not to worry too much. Harry mentioned, before they left, that they might be some time, and necessarily they are out of contact, but there's no reason to think anything's happened."

Ginny nodded, swallowed an immense lump that had spring into her throat. Lupin looked at her sharply and said, "Haven't you heard from them?"

There was an echo of a sob in Ginny's voice as she said, "I got a letter, a really short letter, from Hermione at the start of the year, and _once_ since then, but…even that was a month and a half ago."

Lupin seemed to struggle for a moment before posing the next question. "Were you…and Harry…"

His face was contorted from the sheer discomfort of asking her this, and partly to relieve him, Ginny repeated the old refrain. "I'm not his girlfriend any more, he broke it off six months ago, so…"

She was so _sick_ of having to say those words. As if Harry not-being-her-boyfriend was the most important thing about her, as if it was the only thing that anyone could possibly want to know… And yet, what was even worse, was that even as a part of her wanted to stand up and declare that she was an independent woman, and Harry didn't matter a jot to her, not when she had so many other things to worry about, there was another part that….

Well, it was a terrible thought to have, and in her heart of hearts Ginny was ashamed of herself, but deep down, it _hurt_ that Harry needed Ron and Hermione, had to have them with him, but could leave her behind. If she thought about it for too long it made Ginny feel so worthless that she had to spend half an hour planning a session with the DA; and she hated having to plan for the DA.

Of course that was a rather simplistic way of looking at it, Ginny knew that, but there were times when she felt like a weak, broken-hearted sixteen-year-old girl, and all she wanted was her boyfriend back.

And for the war to be over, and for Louise to wake up, and Ron and Hermione to come home, and for Bill never to have got the scars on his face…there were any number of things Ginny could wish for if she thought hard enough.

Lupin smiled at her, not looking terribly surprised, and said, "We'd better get a move on. Aberforth won't want to be kept waiting."

* * *

In the end it only took them a few minutes to reach this 'Aberforth', who, Ginny was rather surprised to discover, owned the Hog's Head. Wearing the invisibility cloak was irksome, especially in the snow, and Ginny was more than relieved to step inside the pub.

She'd forgotten just how dreary a place it was; in fact it was even dirtier than the last time she'd been in, if that was possible. Her Mum would have had a fit if she'd known, and out of respect for her wishes, Ginny decided to touch as little as possible.

They were ushered into a back room, and Aberforth, a tall man with stringy hair and an unsavoury odour, grunted at Lupin, who cast charms on the doors and walls before leaving the room.

Aberforth stared at her for a moment before gesturing towards a stool. Ginny sat, now somewhat nervous, as he had yet to say an actual word, but was pacing up and down the room.

It was nearly four minutes – Ginny counted – before he said, "Can you keep a secret?"

She looked at him quizzically – in her experience conversations that began with _that_ sentence never ended well. Still, she answered him. "Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I kept my first boyfriend secret from three older brothers, one of whom had classes with him every single day. I can keep a secret. Can you?"

She shouldn't have said it, but something about the man rubbed her the wrong way, not to mention the fact that he seemed familiar to her somehow. He glared at her, and said, "Can you reach him?"

"Who?"

"You know exactly who! I was told you were…" his mouth curled as he said the word, "close."

"I'M NOT HIS GIRLFRIEND ANY MORE!" Ginny took a breath to calm herself and said, "But I can reach him, just not immediately. It'll take time."

"Well that's…it'll have to do. But you have to tell him face to face – no letters, nothing like that. Say it to him, make sure he hears you, and only him."

Ginny nodded sharply, resolving to try the mirror again that evening. "What is it you need me to tell him?"

The older man rubbed his grizzled jaw for a moment, and then said in carefully enunciated terms, "Tell him I have the locket."

Ginny stared at him. "What? I don't even understand what that means."

Aberforth shrugged, plainly not caring one bit. "He will. I have the locket. Tell him."

"Is it important, or…"

"More than you know."

"Well," Ginny said trying to control her exasperation, "Maybe if I did know, it would be easier…"

"Don't be an idiot girl. If anyone, aside from you, knew what I know, well; it's too dangerous to even mention it."

"Right," Ginny said. Something else that was too dangerous for her. It wasn't like there were millions of those.

And that was it. Aberforth had nothing more to say to her, and within half an hour Ginny had returned to Hogwarts. Fortunately, she didn't have to go anywhere near the Transfiguration department, as Slughorn borrowed her for the rest of the day, most of which she spent pickling toads and sea slugs. At five o'clock that evening Ginny levitated her trunk up to the Headmistress' office, a spring in her step at the thought of finally returning home.

She'd assumed she'd just get in the Floo and be done with it, but Bill was waiting for her in McGonagall's office. She rushed to hug him of course – it was Bill – but something about his demeanour put her on guard, a feeling that only increased when she saw the look on McGonagall's face.

"Please, Miss Weasley, sit down," she said, in the gentlest tone that Ginny had ever heard the Headmistress use.

But it was impossible. Already Ginny was cycling through all the members of her family, trying to remember where they might be, trying not to think of Ron, Harry and Hermione, missing in action, trying not to think of Percy who she hadn't spoken to since Dumbledore's funeral, and even that…

Finally she choked out, "What happened?"

Bill was trying to get her to sit down, she could feel him tugging at her arm, but she stared at her teacher until she said, "An hour ago, when the Hogwarts Express pulled up at King's Cross, there was an attack."

Ginny felt nauseous – her head was spinning as she said, "How bad?"

McGonagall's voice sounded incredibly tight, as though she was doing anything to avoid weeping. "Casualties were…minimal. A group of students, led by Mr Longbottom and Miss Bones, banded together to help the Aurors, but…"

Suddenly McGonagall had to produce a handkerchief, and sniff for a while, before she could say, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but Julia Piven was...hit by a stray curse, the Killing Curse."

Ginny could barely hear herself say it. "Jules?"

"I'm afraid so, Miss Weasley."

She couldn't cry. She wanted to cry – it would have been easier – but the tears simply wouldn't come. It felt as though some dreadful blow had struck her, as though something inside had been awfully, fatally injured and every breath was the her final death rattle. Jules was…gone, just like that, and Ginny felt as though she was bruised, all about her heart.

It was a minute, or five, or maybe even ten, before Ginny could collect herself enough to say, "I'm leaving then."

Bill, who had seemed relieved at this sign of life, stared at her. "What?"

Ginny stood up, still feeling somewhat numb, as though she should use her hands to find her way, and said, "Professor McGonagall – I won't be coming back, after Christmas. I want to join the Order."

McGonagall seemed completely unsurprised by this, but sat back in her seat, deliberating, as Bill said, "You've gone mad, Ginny, you're not joining the Order, you're too young."

"I don't care."

"Listen to me," Bill said, putting his hands on her shoulders, "there is no way you're going out to battle Death Eaters, not over my dead body, do you hear me?"

Ginny felt oddly cold, and her voice was almost prim, as she said, "It nearly was." She had to catch herself for a moment before she said, "I've fought Death Eaters before you know, and…I'm leaving either way Professor, but, I want to help the Order if I can."

McGonagall sighed, and said, "Very well, Miss Weasley, so long as you abide by the following conditions."

Ginny leaned forward eagerly. "Name them."

"Firstly, that you continue to lead the DA. Secondly, you will sit your final year exams at the end of January, and if you fail, I will 'request' that you return to continue your education. And thirdly, that you accept whatever task the Order gives you, even if it is so unglamorous as pickling toads. If you fulfil these requirements, I will inform Molly that I believe you to be…likely to do something foolish, if you remain at Hogwarts."

Ginny nodded, thinking of Jules' face, full of guilt, that very morning. "Of course, Professor. I'll do all of them."

"Very well then, Miss Weasley. I will speak to you, after Christmas."

"There's just one thing, Professor."

"Yes?" McGonagall said incredulously.

"You'll need a new Quidditch Captain."

"I'm afraid," McGonagall said, bowing her head, "That Quidditch is no longer a priority."

Ginny nodded understandingly, and said, "Thank you, Professor."

Bill was glaring at her, furious, but Ginny merely walked towards the fireplace. She knew he'd want to talk about this later, but she didn't think she'd have the stomach for it. All she could see was Jules' face, and it swam before her face with such a reproachful look that…she could no longer sit idly by.


	7. A Time to Break Down

A Time to Break Down

Ginny had fallen asleep on her Potions notes. She'd spent every day except for the funeral pounding information into her overburdened brain. She now had renewed respect for Hermione.

Some of it wasn't too bad – Charms and Astronomy had always come to her fairly easily, and, thanks to Harry, she was pretty good at Defence. As for the rest, she intended to ask Neville for help with Herbology; and she rather thought that if she simply made herself learn enough recipes, she could scrape a pass in Potions. It was Transfiguration that was the trouble. Ginny had always loathed the subject, and would have dropped it after her fifth year if it weren't required to become a Healer. She had no idea how she would pass McGonagall's test, but knew she would have to find a way.

Ginny took a perverse pleasure in _making_ herself learn things she hadn't the least interest in. There was no way she was returning to Hogwarts – that was the least she could do for Jules, difficult as it was to think of her friend. Their relationship, always a little fractious, had been even more so of late, and Jules' death so unbearably…futile, that it was probably a good thing Ginny had her study to distract her. Otherwise she might have spent all her time in bed or staring at old photos of Jules and Louise.

Her Hermione-like devotion to her school-work had, however, the unfortunate side-effect of exhausting her, so that she fell asleep, her head cushioned on 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' at eleven o'clock on Christmas Eve.

It was the sound of the back door opening that wakened her. A blast of cold air hit her face as she opened her eyes, assuming Tonks had arrived at last, and anticipating a lovely long chat – yet another distraction.

But it wasn't Tonks. A large hand thumped her on the shoulder, and she heard a familiar voice say, "What's all this? Books out on Christmas Eve! That's just not right."

Sleepiness and all, Ginny couldn't help herself, hugging Ron with a squeal of joy that seemed to surprise him. Thankfully, Ron was, as her Mum put it, twice Ginny's size, and able to catch her with ease. They weren't in the habit of being particularly affectionate, but Ron hung on to her as long as she did to him. Perhaps he had missed her after all.

When Ginny finally let go of Ron, she saw two beaming faces behind him. Hermione looked remarkably cheerful, though Ginny rather thought she'd lost weight; she looked a little thin around the face. Harry however…Harry had turned into a man.

Ginny didn't know what it was exactly…and she couldn't spend too long looking, but there was definitely something. It wasn't that he was taller, though perhaps he was, but there was a kind of honed look to his face. Perhaps it wasn't right for him to look so completely, so absolutely adult, but Ginny had to admit – it was beyond sexy.

These thoughts ran through her head as she hugged Hermione. It was so good to see one of her friends, that Ginny couldn't help but grin when she turned to Harry.

For one long moment Ginny hesitated – she knew she wasn't supposed to touch him, wasn't supposed to be any where near him, and she knew the same thought was in his mind. But the moment came to an end, and Ginny said, "Sod it" and threw herself into his arms.

Ginny couldn't care about being sensible any more – she was tired and sad, and more than anything she wanted a hug from her 'not-quite-boyfriend.' Typically for Harry, even though he hadn't wanted her to touch him in the first place, he was extremely reluctant to let her go. Unable to resist, Ginny buried her face in his shoulder for a moment – he was so solid. Not dead, not injured, but solid and whole, and for this one moment she could hold him, and keep him that way. He was Harry, and Ginny couldn't imagine anything that would inspire so much joy as seeing him smile.

But she had to let go.

Once the first shock of reunion was over, they sat around the table, catching up on everything that had happened (Hermione, Ginny noted, was sitting on Ron's knee.) Nothing sad was mentioned, and Ron in particular kept her laughing for several minutes with his ridiculous stories.

Unable to keep from smiling, so glad to see them all alive and apparently healthy, Ginny told them all the gossip from Hogwarts – that Romilda Vane was going out with the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and Dean now fancied Demelza. She saved the best for last, knowing how much it would cheer Hermione. "And…Neville's got a girlfriend."

Ron made a sound of glee. "Seriously!"

"Yeah," Ginny said, admitting after a moment, "Well, not actually. Susan kind of stares at him adoringly, and of course…Neville's a typical boy, he hasn't noticed anything."

Harry shifted in his seat, looking awkward, and realizing what she'd said, Ginny flushed and continued hurriedly, "Even her new interest in Herbology didn't strike him as odd."

Hermione smiled. "I like Susan."

"Yeah," Ginny said, chewing on her lower lip, "She's all right. She has great hair."

"I just can't believe Neville's finally got a girl."

"Shut it, Ron! Neville never gets any respect."

Harry smiled at her affectionately – the smile he seemed to keep only for her – and said, "How's Luna?"

"Oh," Ginny said, "She's…Luna. I think she's happier this year with the DA though."

Hermione looked surprised. "The DA is meeting again?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, "It wasn't my idea, but…they really wanted to. Kind of blackmailed me into it."

"What do you mean?" Harry said.

Ginny pointed at her chest sheepishly. "Guess who's the leader."

"Anything else you want to tell us?" Ron said.

"The Quidditch Captain too," Ginny said, staring into her lap, "But…I'm not very good at it."

She felt rather than saw a hand hovering over her shoulder – a moment later Hermione coughed and said, "I'm sure you're fine."

Ginny laughed. "I'm really not, but it doesn't really matter anymore anyway."

Harry looked suspicious and said, "Why?"

"Well," Ginny said warily, "I'm not going back."

Ron sat up sharply, "What!"

"I asked McGonagall for permission to join the Order, and she said yes…with conditions."

Ron was livid. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Not the last time I checked."

"You can't. Mum won't let you."

"McGonagall talked to her. It's all sorted – I just have to pass the exams."

""You're not…there's no way any of us, there's no way Mum's letting you go out there."

"Maybe she doesn't want me to go through what she did, Ron!"

Hermione twitched and said, "I'm sorry? Ginny, what…"

"Mum's brothers died in the first war…"

Ron slapped the table. "And you could too. You're not going, Ginny – there's no way we'll let you fight the bloody Death Eaters. You don't know what it's like."

"Let me!" she said outraged, "After the stuff you've done, you've a right nerve telling me to…and somehow or other, I've got a fairly good idea what mass-murdering psychopaths like to do to little girls, Ron."

"Ginny," he said pleadingly, "Can you just be sensible for one second – you can't do these things, not now…not without someone to protect you. You're still a kid."

"Oh, yeah…you're a fine one for protecting me after the fact."

"Ginny!" Hermione said, shocked at the venom in her tone.

"I'm sorry," she said, swallowing some of her anger, "But I'm still going."

"No," Harry said steadily, "You're not."

"What!"

"You're not going out to this war – they're murdering and cutting and slicing people, and you are _not_ going out to that. _You've_ got to stay alive." Harry's voice trembled.

She stood up, trying to control an urge to cry. "Harry, you know what? … You're not my boyfriend any more." He looked wounded, but it had to be said, "And I think we've established pretty clearly that you're not my brother, so don't you _dare_ tell me what to do. I'm not waiting for another of my friends to die. If you had any idea what it's like – hearing Parkinson or Nott claim that one or all of you is dead every second day, and not knowing if it could be true – if you had any _idea_… I can't do it any more." Having said her piece, she moved to walk up the stairs.

Very slowly, Hermione said, "Ginny? What happened?"

Ginny slumped, and turned to sit on the bottom step of the stairs. Without looking at any of them, she said, "Jules is dead." She heard Hermione gasp, and knew that Ron was searching for something to say, and suddenly, she couldn't face it, couldn't face their sympathy, or their kindness…she could feel it welling up inside her, a dark and horrible loneliness, because Jules was gone.

Without a word, she turned and ran up the stairs, already feeling the tears streaming down her face. It was hard to concentrate on putting one foot in front of another, and rather than attempt to reach her room, Ginny locked herself in the bathroom. She curled up on the floor, which was cold, and sobbed until her legs started to cramp. She felt so alone.

Ron and Hermione – and Harry – were wonderful, but they weren't her friends like Jules and Louise had been. Jules and Louise had been with her all through her years at Hogwarts – she'd done all the stupid things teenage girls do, with them, and while Hermione was the big sister she'd never had, Jules and Louise were her best friends, and…she just…she couldn't stand it without them…she didn't feel whole. They knew so much about her, and now…all of that knowledge was gone, disappeared as though it had never been.

Louise would never patch up an argument between Ginny and Jules again, and Jules would never complain about Harry not being a real boy, and it was just so hard…

When she finally opened the door Hermione was waiting for her.

"Are you all right?" She asked, wincing a moment later at the pointlessness of the question.

Ginny looked at the floor. "I'm so _tired_, Hermione." And suddenly the blasted tears were falling yet again, and Hermione had put an arm around her.

A moment late, Ginny was sitting on the side of the bath, and Hermione was dabbing at her face with a sponge. "What happened to her?" she said.

Ginny sniffed. "It was during the attack on King's Cross… Neville told me he saw her, in the distance – he was fighting the Death Eaters – and she was just hiding, trying to keep her head down, but then… He says he saw someone try to attack her sister – you know her older sister was a Squib – and that made Jules stand up to try and defend her, and she just got…clipped. It wasn't even meant for her, it was just a stupid accident – not that it matters."

Hermione looked as if she herself might cry, but she only said, "You should go to bed, Ginny. You're exhausted."

When Ginny didn't move, Hermione pulled on her arm and said, "Come on – you'll feel better in the morning, I promise."

Ginny sighed. "Mum wants me to take a Sleeping Draught."

Hermione looked at her sympathetically. "Bad dreams?"

Ginny shook her head. "No dreams at all – not much sleep either. I just keep thinking…we'd been _fighting_ Hermione, I mean…all year, Jules and I, we'd been sniping at each other, and now…"

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, "I can't even imagine…Have you heard anything at all about Louise?"

"Well," Ginny said, feeling momentarily cheered, "Apparently, she can wake up." Hermione brightened, "If the Death Eater that cast the curse dies or decides to undo it, so…"

"Right," Hermione said, "You're not holding your breath then?"

"No," Ginny said, "But you're right – I should go to bed."

And with that she pushed herself off the bath and said goodnight. It only took a moment or two for her to put on her pyjamas and climb in to bed, and a part of her was extraordinarily grateful to be alone. And yet, as she had predicted, it was difficult, essentially impossible, to fall asleep.

Something kept nagging at her – a loose tooth at the back of her mind – and she must have tossed and turned for the better part of an hour, trying to think of it, trying not to think of it, counting hippogriffs and reciting Transfiguration formulas to herself (her one sure-fire method of falling asleep) before it came to her.

When she finally remembered, Ginny shot out of her bed as though she'd just seen a Lethifold. She was in such a rush to get down to the kitchen that she almost tripped as she ran down the stairs, and her heart was racing as she stumbled over the final step.

"Harry! Harry!" They weren't in the kitchen, and Ginny almost moaned with frustration before running on through to the sitting room. Hermione was fast asleep on the sofa, while Harry and Ron were playing a game of chess on the floor beside the Christmas tree. Harry had obviously heard her calling him, for he was struggling to get up, his long legs tangled in the rug.

"What is it, Ginny?" he said.

"It's…it's…" she was panting so much she could barely put a sentence together, which, ludicrously, was causing Harry and Ron a great deal of anxiety.

"What's wrong?" Ron said, brandishing his wand.

Harry put his hand on her elbow, trying to calm her down, and said, "Did you see something?"

Still trying to catch her breath, Ginny shook her head, and Ron said irritably, "Spit it out."

"Sorry…I…" Ginny took a long deep breath, and finally managed to say, "I've a message for you, Harry."

Ron snorted. "That's all – come on Ginny. I thought we were about to be killed or something."

"Shut _up_ Ron! It's important…at least," she said remembering what the message actually was, "I think it's important."

"Well," Harry said, "What is it then?"

She felt nonsensical, having to actually say the words out loud, but she lifted her chin, and said, "The barman of the Hogs Head told me to tell you that he has the locket. With everything…I forgot, but he said to tell you."

She'd half-expected them to laugh, or stare at her blankly, but instead, they looked electrified. Ron was actually grinning, and Harry looked happier then she'd seen him since…the day of their first kiss. Ron immediately bent to waken Hermione, and Harry said, "Thanks Ginny – that's…that's great, that's really great."

"It's important?"

Harry grinned and said, "Yeah…it's…I can't even…Ron, we have to go, _now._"

"I know, I know," Ron said, waving a hand dismissively, "Just give me a second to wake her up, all right."

And after that, he ignored Harry, gently coaxing Hermione awake and whispering to her until she seemed ready to get up. Hermione looked to be extremely tired, and it was almost…sweet to see Ron being so considerate.

Clearly Ginny was going to have to ask her friend a few questions once they were alone, but for now she had other concerns. Flipping her hair over her shoulder she glared at Harry and said, "You're leaving?"

He looked at her absently, "Yeah…hopefully it won't take too long. Maybe a day – we'll see."

"Harry!"

He looked at her again; this time she actually had his full attention. "What's the matter?"

"You only just arrived…we haven't seen you in months. Can't it…wait a day or two?"

Harry's lip curled and he said, "I didn't think you'd care."

It was the single worst thing Harry had ever said to her – worse even than forgetting she'd been possessed – and Ginny had to take an actual step away from him. Part of her wanted to Hex him, and would have, if her wand hadn't been in her bedroom, and the other part felt physically winded by his speech, as though Harry had knocked her off her broom.

He must have been sorry, for his face softened, and he said, "Look, I know…you don't know how important this is, Ginny."

"You're right Harry – I don't. So maybe, since I'm the one who told you in the first place, you could actually explain what this is all about."

He shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that Ginny worried he would hurt himself, and said, "I'm sorry."

Inwardly, Ginny thought that was a line that was getting old, but for the moment she sat down on the sofa, trying not to snap at him. Everything about her current situation was so _frustrating_, but…snarling at Harry wasn't going to change any of that. For now at least, she had to be content with staying behind, waiting for him to return, however much it curdled her blood.

She rather had a feeling she was going to start crying again – and for that reason, when Hermione said, "Are you okay, Ginny?" she merely nodded her head numbly.

None of them seemed to believe this, and Harry made a sudden, involuntary movement, as though he wanted to touch her, but caught himself and said, "We should be back in the morning – early probably."

And with that, they were gone. Ginny curled up on the sofa, covered herself with a spare blanket and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

It was still dark when Ginny felt a hand on her shoulder. It seemed to take an extremely long time for her to wake up, and when she did, she saw Harry gazing down at her. "Come on," he said, "You'll freeze down here."

Ginny, still three-quarters asleep, said, "You came back."

Harry shook his head at her, "Of course I did."

Ginny sat up a little, and Harry's expression changed. "Why were you crying?"

"I…It doesn't matter."

A look of contrition spread over his handsome features, and he started to say, "Ginny look…"

But Ginny, unable to help herself, yawned, and Harry closed his mouth with a snap. A moment later, he'd picked her up in his arms – an action that Ginny might once have protested against as excessively chivalrous and ridiculous, but now she could only curl up against his shoulder. He smelt good, and the stubble on his chin grazed her softer skin deliciously, and Ginny enjoyed the sensations of it so much that she scarcely heard him say, "Hermione's already gone up."

By the time they reached her room, Ginny was nearly asleep, and she almost didn't notice Harry putting her back into bed, or the ghost of a kiss against her brow. Almost.


	8. A Time to Cast Away Stones

A Time to Cast Away Stones

Ginny didn't wake until extremely late on Christmas morning – in fact, if it hadn't been for Hermione poking her in the stomach and demanding she get up, Ginny mightn't have woken at all.

Knowing that there would be few opportunities for them to talk during the day, Ginny started to question her friend as they opened their presents. "So," she said, "You and Ron looked very cosy last night."

"Oh," Hermione said, chewing her bottom lip as she contemplated her present from Harry, "Did we?"

"Yes," Ginny said glaring at her, "So is there something you want to tell me."

Hermione smiled suddenly, seeming to light up the room. "I don't know why it took us so long, Ginny," she said, "I mean even though everything's …awful, and we're so far away from everyone, and I miss my parents and…_you_, obviously…I'm so happy. I know you'll think I'm ridiculous, because it's Ron, but…Ginny's he's wonderful, he really is."

Ginny smiled at her, and said, "I'm so glad you two…" her voice trailed off. She truly _was_ happy for Hermione, so happy that she actually felt a lump in her throat. After everything, all the jealousy and all the hurt, Ron and Hermione had finally sorted themselves out and it was beautiful. "I'm sorry…" she said, blinking rapidly, "I'm not going to cry on you."

Hermione grinned at her. "Good. I don't approve of crying on Christmas."

Ginny smiled back as she unwrapped her last present. She was so preoccupied with what Hermione had told her that it took her a moment to realize what it was she held. Once she did, she flung it across the room as hard as she possibly could, and crawled back to the far end of her bed. She didn't want to be anywhere near it.

Hermione looked baffled, and said, "Ginny? What's the matter?"

Her lips felt numb. "Did you…did you see that?"

"See you throw something at the wall for no apparent reason?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Ginny said, nodding rapidly. "It looks like…look at it Hermione."

Still seeming confused, Hermione picked up the book where it had fallen. It was a thick black leather bound notebook with yellowed, slightly curled paper. The most noticeable thing about this diary however was the hole that had been burned into it, going through to the very centre.

Hermione shrugged, still confused. "It's the diary, Hermione." Ginny said.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so, Ginny. How would it even get here? And why would someone send it back to you?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, "But if it's not… Who would…" Her voice trailed off as she realized exactly who would think it funny to give her a copy of Tom Riddle's diary.

She snatched it out of Hermione's hands, and walked briskly out of the room. She scarcely noticed Bill and Fleur's greeting, focusing purely on her destination. Fleur however wasn't easily distracted, and she paused to say, "Ginny, did you try on your new robes? I 'ave a 'airstyle which I theenk would be…"

Ginny shook her head and continued up the stairs. A moment later she was hammering on the twins' door. Her hand had started to hurt by the time George opened up, but Ginny was too angry to think straight, and thrust the fake Diary into his hands immediately, saying, "Did you think it would be _funny? _Did you? What's wrong with you two, huh, what's _wrong_ with you?"

George shook his head sleepily. "Ginny, what…what are you talking about?

"I'm talking about THAT," Ginny said, "That in your hands right now." When he still looked confused she added, "Your lovely copy of _Tom Riddle's_ diary, that's what I'm talking about. How could you? It was at the end of my bed, you sick…"

George stared at her helplessly, and Fred, who had just woken evidently, seemed equally confused. "Ginny," he said, "We didn't…"

In a dim corner of her mind, Ginny was aware that Bill, Fleur, Hermione and Ron had all joined them, watching her argument with the twins, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "Well who did then?" she asked. "Who? 'Cause I don't think anyone else would have…" She was so angry she was on the verge of tears, and her hands trembled.

"Ginny? Ginny, what's the matter?" Harry had joined them – apparently from the bathroom. His face was half-covered in shaving cream and he wore only a pair of scruffy tracksuit bottoms.

She couldn't seem to speak, a weight on her chest constricting her throat as she watched Harry take the diary George's hands. He examined it carefully, and Ginny saw his face grow pale before he said, "Where did you get this?"

Swallowing a sob, Ginny said, "It was waiting for me this morning, all wrapped up in a bow."

Harry looked at her then, a long, piercingly _look_. He understood why it had upset her so much, why she'd come out of her room yelling. Still, he managed to smile at her before saying, "This isn't a copy."

"What!" Ginny flinched away from him instinctively.

"It's not…it's been wiped, Ginny, there's nothing in it any more, I promise. But it's the same diary."

"How do you know?" she asked, hating how thin and scared her voice sounded.

Harry turned the diary over in his hands. "Look," he said, pointing at the embossed letters on the back. "TM Riddle. How many people even know Voldemort's real name? This is the same diary, I just don't understand why…"

Harry's voice trailed off, and he stared at the diary as though deep in thought. Ginny shook her head, backing away from him slowly. She could feel everyone staring at her, and in truth she felt so shaken and vulnerable that she simply couldn't bear it, and so she turned to Fleur saying, "You said…you said you had a suggestion for how I could do my hair?"

Fleur nodded, for once in her life struck dumb, and Ginny continued, "Well could you…I want to look nice in those new robes Mum bought me, so…"

A minute later Ginny was back in her room, staring into the mirror while Fleur fussed over her hair.

Ginny did her best to pull herself together for the rest of Christmas day. She chattered with Hermione, and played Exploding Snap with Fred and George, and helped her Mum set the table for dinner, and all in all she appeared to be the happiest teenage girl imaginable.

It was such a pity that almost no one believed her virtuoso performance. Harry stared at her throughout the day, occasionally diverting conversation if it strayed on to what he considered a 'sensitive' subject. Fred and George were that unimaginable thing, quiet, and they didn't make fun of her once that day. Her Mum and Dad both found reasons to hug her throughout the day, merely intensifying Ginny's feeling that she was being coddled.

Still, what happened that evening wasn't her fault.

Ginny fell into a doze in the sitting room, her book slipping forgotten to the floor. She wasn't truly asleep – she could hear the crackle of the fire, and feel its heat on her skin – but it was understandable that she might have looked that way.

She didn't really pay much attention to Ron, Harry and Hermione when they came in, being too comfortable. It was only when Harry seemed to snap, saying, "I'm telling you, Hermione, it's not _his_ handwriting," that Ginny opened her eyes.

All three stopped talking abruptly. Ron looked uncomfortable, and said, "Ginny you look tired, why don't you…"

"Oh for goodness sake, Ron." Ginny said, "I wrote in that bloody thing for nearly a year. I think you can talk about it in front of me!"

He shook his head, looking as though he wanted to make difficulties, but Harry said, "Ginny, could you look at this for me?"

"Okay" she said, slipping off the sofa to join him. It was a bit of a shock when he handed the diary to her, and she had to absorb the fact that she was touching it for a moment before she could pay attention to what Harry asked her.

"Look," he said, opening the front cover. "Is that Voldemort's handwriting?"

Ginny examined the page carefully. The Basilisk venom had burnt most of the paper away, but one corner had survived, and on this someone had written a short note. The handwriting was cramped, and there was at least one blot, but Ginny could make out one short sentence. "He suspects you."

After a minute or two she said, "No. Vol-Voldemort's writing was fancier than this."

"Are you certain?" Hermione asked, her voice slightly shrill.

"Positive." Ginny said. "It's definitely not his writing."

Harry sighed with relief, but Hermione seemed even more concerned, if that was possible, and said, "Well who could it be then?"

"I don't know," Ginny said, thinking quickly, "But Professor McGonagall said they have some mysterious contact. Maybe you should talk to her."

"I don't know…have we time, Harry?"

He shrugged, and Hermione sighed before saying to Ginny, "Can I have a look at that please? I need to examine it."

"Why?" Ginny said, baffled. "It's been wiped. And why would you need to look at it anyway?"

Hermione seemed desperately uncomfortable, barely able to meet Ginny's eyes, and she looked at Harry pleadingly. He said nothing.

"Is it…" Ginny stared at the two of them. "Is it possible there are more things like this out there?"

Hermione bit her lip, but still said nothing, and Ginny turned to Harry, truly frightened now. "ARE there more of them?"

There was a moment of silence which filled Ginny with dread. Harry sighed and said, "Okay…Ginny, you have to believe me."

"I'll believe you, if you'll just _tell_ me," she said fearfully.

Harry took one of her hands in his. "Listen to me," he said. "There are more. There are more things _like_ the diary. But," he added, keeping her still, "_None_ of them can do what the diary did. None."

Ginny sniffed. "Do you promise?"

He nodded, and Ginny felt her shoulders slump with relief. The thought of another diary out there, of some other innocent being forced to do appalling things against their will…

"Can I have it?" she asked.

Harry nodded, ignoring Hermione's sound of protest. Smiling at him, Ginny crawled over to the fire, and ripped a page from the diary. It was tremendously satisfying to watch it burn.

She kept doing it, adding pages and pages to the flames, until the diary's cover flopped limply in her hands. Ginny traced that hated name, TM Riddle, one last time with her finger, and then flung the leather cover into the fire.

She was rather surprised to find that her cheeks were wet – she hadn't realized she was crying – and she might have been truly embarrassed if Ron hadn't touched her shoulder. "Come on," he said.

Ginny wiped at her face frantically. "What is it?"

"I've hot chocolate in the kitchen."

She shook her head, thinking of their conversation before. "You have…things to talk about," she said.

"_Ginny_." Ron said. "Don't be thick – come on. It's Christmas, I've hot chocolate – we're getting out the chess set."

She laughed slightly, and took his hand when he offered to help her up. For the first time in months…she felt safe.


	9. A Time to Plant

Chapter Eight: A Time to Plant

Ginny awoke all of a sudden. Her eyes flicked open abruptly; light and silence flooded her senses, and then she was awake. The walls of her room had been turned a pale, cold colour by the early morning light, and it took her a moment to realise what exactly was wrong. There was no sound; nothing except for the soft swish of the snow outside her window.

She couldn't hear Hermione breathing.

Ginny didn't turn over for nearly five minutes. She knew what she'd see; they'd disappeared in the middle of the night. Again. She didn't cry. Ginny had begun to realise that, sometimes, crying simply didn't help. She _could_ have wept – could have sobbed and torn her hair, but it wouldn't change anything. They were gone – they'd left her, and all the tears in the world wouldn't change that. She'd just be left with a headache.

So Ginny didn't cry, though she might have wanted to. After all, she should have known it would happen, she should have realised after the previous evening. They'd sat up together, all four of them. Hermione had been giving her tips for her Transfiguration exam, and, seemingly accidentally, Harry and Ron had joined them.

Harry had been sitting beside her at the kitchen table, his knee hovering tantalising close to hers. She'd wanted to move her chair closer to his – she'd wanted to climb into his lap even, and hug him and smooth his hair (because she was his girlfriend, and it was her _right_ to smooth his hair, even if it _was_ pointless), and feel his hands holding her hips possessively…

Of course, she couldn't do any of those things. Ginny could barely even meet his eyes, because he'd been looking at her in a way that made her blush. In his eyes…she knew he wanted to touch her as much as she wanted him to – knew he wanted to drag up to her bedroom and do things her Mum would never approve of – knew the real meaning of his blush when she accidentally touched his hand. But Harry just looked at her, and in his eyes were a thousand things Ginny was only barely old enough to contemplate.

It was hard to sit at that table then, because his glance made her tremble, and the short space of air that separated their two bodies seemed to vibrate, so that she was always aware of just how close he was. It took a great effort to appear normal – to make light, comfortable chat with Hermione, to giggle at the advice Harry's chess pieces yelled at him. She spilled milk all over the table at one point, because Harry came up behind her and touched her waist – Ginny could have murdered him, especially for looking so _amused_ by the whole thing. It almost felt like she belonged – like she really was a part of their group after all. It almost felt like Ron, for the first time in years, didn't mind sharing – that, in fact, he _wanted_ her to hang around with them.

And now they were gone. Gone for who knew how long, without a word for anyone, without even telling her that they were going to leave. As she'd said to Harry before – it was cruel.

Even thinking about it began to make her angry, and since it was better to start the day angry than sad, Ginny rolled over in her bed, ready to get up. And then she saw it. A sheet of paper, folded in half, with a large 'G' written on it, on her dressing table.

When she opened it there was just a short note: "We'll be back. xx Harry."

Something about those two little xs, so tentatively marked on the page, went straight to Ginny's heart. It looked as though he'd agonized for long minutes as to whether they were appropriate, and it seemed so…idiotic, when she thought about. Of course, Harry wasn't the most overtly affectionate person – as far as Ginny knew, she was the first person _he'd_ ever hugged, ever reached out to physically, which made her want to weep sometimes. It was so sad that a person like Harry, a person who could be so _obvious_ sometimes, when it came to the people he cared about, could yet be so frail and fearful when it came to physical affection.

Ginny knew she'd treasure that little note. It didn't say anything particularly meaningful – she knew that – and it didn't mean that they were sure to find each other again – she knew that too – but it meant he cared, it meant he felt enough for her to take the risk (and it would have seemed a risk to Harry) of letting her know it.

* * *

Ginny cooked breakfast for her Mum that morning, and comforted her when she cried, and then, determined not to mope or complain, she settled down to learning off a few more Potions recipes. She prepared herself for a day of dull, lengthy work, and felt very virtuous in making her plan. However, after little more than two hours, she was interrupted. Neville and Luna had come to visit.

Ginny hadn't expected them, and though she offered them tea and biscuits (as was polite) she was extremely curious as to why they were there. Neville, admittedly, had offered to help her with Herbology, and Ginny had made plans to pick his brain the very next day, but this was something else.

Even Luna's expression was uncharacteristically serious, though she still wore her radish earrings. Ginny had come to rather love those earrings, as the mark of Luna's unique personality. One of these days, she was going to find a pair of dangling cucumbers and give them to her friend.

Neville spoke first. "Ginny," he said, "After I got your letter, Luna and I…we had a talk."

Ginny smiled at him and said, "Is there something you want…you're not worried about me, are you Neville?"

He looked at Luna for a moment, seemed to steel himself and said, "There is. We're leaving with you."

Ginny all but fell off her chair, and she looked at friend with wide eyes. "I'm sorry…what?"

Luna looked at her serenely. "We're leaving Hogwarts too," she said.

"But…but why?" Ginny was so confused she could hardly make sentences.

Neville shrugged, as though uncomfortable, and said, "We're doing the right thing. We talked to McGonagall already, and she's…"

"She wouldn't let you do it – it could be dangerous Neville, and…"

"We're of age." He said, his voice determined. "She can't keep us there. And they _need_ us, Ginny. You know that."

She struggled to find the right words. She knew Neville had his reasons for wanting to fight Voldemort – she even thought his reasons were good ones, but she still had to say… "This is…this isn't some once-off adventure. It could be…I wouldn't want to think you'd done that for me."

Luna put her hand on hers and started to say, "Ginny…", but Neville interrupted her.

"You go," he said firmly, "Then we go."

He meant what he said, Ginny knew it, and his tone – the utterly serious and yet meaningful way he said – struck her to the core. He wouldn't let her do this alone, he wouldn't let another friend walk out of Hogwarts in who knew what. Ginny wanted to hug him, and if they hadn't had dozens of things to discuss, she probably would have. Tears sprang into her eyes though, and she gave Neville a smile that let him know how she felt.

Luna smiled happily. "And there'll be so much to learn in the Hog's Head."

Ginny started. "The Hog's Head?"

Neville didn't quite meet Ginny's eyes. "Luna's going to be working as a bar maid."

Luna looked completely contented as she said, "They're short staffed, and McGonagall wants me to keep an ear out. Daddy says any number of mysterious things have happened in the Hog's Head." Her eyes were shining.

Ginny smiled and said, delicately, to Neville, "Have you…told Susan yet?"

Neville blushed, and said, "Well…I haven't…that is to say…do you think she'd want to know?"

Ginny grinned at him, trying to restrain a surge of happiness for her friend. "I think she _definitely_ would."

She could see the effect her words had had on him – in an instant he seemed to be sitting straighter. Nonetheless, he wouldn't be distracted from their original purpose, and so he said, "What will you be doing, Ginny?"

She shrugged. "McGonagall wasn't very clear when we talked about it. I've to keep up the DA." Ginny grimaced at the thought. "And she wants me to help out with the 'Dark Arts Defence League' for some reason, and then…she mentioned something about Twillfit and Tatlings; I've to 'keep an ear out' as Luna says."

Neville looked sympathetic. "I'll be in your brothers' shop," he said, "Doing the same thing and all. I think they're worried about Diagon Alley."

Ginny sighed. "With good reason. If the Death Eaters tried to attack Gringotts…"

They were silent for a moment, considering the possibility, and then Neville said, with a sigh, "I think we're definitely junior members of the Order."

Ginny smiled again. "You're right," she said, "But…I just don't care. I've been wanting to do _something_ for so long, and…knowing that you'll both be with me – suddenly it's not the least bit scary."


	10. A Time to Weep

A Time to Weep

Ginny stared up at the sky, one leg hooked over the windowsill she sat on. She was exhausted. She'd been working several shifts a week in Twillfit & Tatting's hoping to pick up any useful scrap of gossip – being pureblood meant that customers were more 'comfortable' around her.

Ginny hated it. Most of the customers were fine, but there were some…it was all she could do to bite her lip and keep herself from cursing their tongues off. The only reason she hadn't was that she had managed to pass on at least one piece of semi-useful information – though Tonks had refused to tell her what it was.

She still had to go into Hogwarts twice a week to teach the DA; she and Neville were helping Elphias Doge plan the Dark Arts Defence League's annual gala; she helped Tonks and other members of the Order patrol the Hogwarts corridors at night (on the strict understanding that she was to run if anything actually happened); and someone had to help Luna kick out her customers on the nights when Aberforth wasn't in the Hog's Head.

Ginny had a suspicion that McGonagall was giving them so much (boring) work to do as a way of dulling their enthusiasm and encouraging them to go back to school. She was ashamed to say that there were times when she thought it might be working.

Somehow, Ginny had hoped to make an actual difference – to save Muggle babies from Death Eaters holding them at wand point – but it wasn't working out that way. It didn't matter how much they complained or rebelled – Minerva McGonagall would never put Hogwarts students in the path of danger.

It was just hard sometimes – Diagon Alley wasn't nearly as busy as it had been when Ginny was younger, and there were times when the shop was completely empty for an hour or more. With nothing to do except look at the various robes, many of which were beautiful, Ginny often felt a pang for Louise and Jules. They would have loved looking at them.

Ginny shivered, as she looked at the moon, round and bright and remote above her. Lupin would suffer through another change tonight, and Greyback… Ginny didn't want to think about what Geyback would do.

There were times when she felt very lonely. It wasn't just missing Jules and Louise – or Harry and Ron and Hermione – though of course that was part of it. The Burrow was very empty these days – not the bustling, overheated place she'd known since childhood. Her father was busy with Ministry business, and her Mum worked almost full time for the Order. On top of that, none of her brothers were living at home any longer. Ginny was always listening out for an argument over Quidditch, or Ron's elephantine tramp on the stairs, or…but it was always quiet.

Tonight at least, the twins were in – harassed into babysitting her by their mother. She would have been grateful for the company, but they were being very cloak and dagger – muttering obsessively over something in the kitchen – and Ginny knew she had limited patience for that kind of behaviour.

Sighing, Ginny hauled herself off the windowsill, and picked up her wand. She was _sick_ of this. It was her first night off in nearly a week, and she was definitely not going to waste it moping.

She tucked her wand into her back pocket and hurried downstairs. Ignoring Fred's huff of irritation she took a bottle of pumpkin juice out of the fridge and snagged two chocolate biscuits. She ate them standing up at the worktop, enjoying the cool way the fruit juice slid down her throat. When she was finished she flipped her hair over one shoulder airily and said, "I'm going for a quick fly, okay?"

George shook his head, "Ginny, Mum said you weren't to…"

"I won't go far," she said, a little pleadingly, she had to admit. "Promise. Just up to the meadow and back. When Harry was here he could go further than that."

Fred looked as though he really wanted to make a joke at that, but when he caught her eye he shook his head sadly. George had his jaw set at a stubborn angle and said, "Ginny, I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh come _on_, George," she said. "I'll only be gone five minutes. It can be our little secret."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment or two and then gave in. "Fine in," he said, "But if Mum comes back before then – "

"It'll be on my head, I know," Ginny said, going to hug him. "But it doesn't matter – you'll still be the best brother in the world."

"Oi!" Fred protested, looking wounded.

"Well," Ginny added hurriedly. "One of."

They grinned at her, and Ginny went out of the door smiling. It was the work of a moment to get her broom out of the shed, and seconds later Ginny was soaring up into the air. It was quite chilly, and after a moment's thought Ginny summoned a hoodie and a pair of gloves from her bedroom. Putting them on in midair was something of a feat, but like Ron, Ginny didn't like the cold.

It was a beautiful night for flying though. There was very little wind but the air was crisp and bracing in her lungs, and Ginny could have sworn she felt the moonlight on her skin like silk.

She pushed her broom as far as it could go, twisting and turning like a mad thing, and laughing as it bucked against her hands. It wasn't really cut out for this kind of thing, and eventually Ginny had to settle down to a less adventurous style of flying.

When she reached the meadow she dove, the bristles of her broom just touching the tips of the long grass. Charlie had told her how to make crop circles years before, but this was the first time Ginny had ever tried it. When she flew up to survey her handiwork she saw that she'd only succeeded in making a rather wonky circle, but for now it would have to do.

There was something slightly eerie about the effect of the moonlight on the grass, and Ginny decided to head back to the house. She was growing cold, and she had a feeling that a large mug of hot chocolate was just the thing to cheer her up before she went to bed. She had to owl Neville about lunch the next day as well.

She was mentally composing the note she'd send as she flew over the forest, and it took her a moment to realise what was happening. She could hear the clash and sizzle of competing spells, and when she came over the hill she saw that the twins were fighting five Death Eaters.

Slowing her broom down, Ginny pulled her wand out of her pocket and fired off two Stunners, picking off two of the twins' attackers. As they fell to the ground the remaining combatants turned to face her, and Ginny heard one, or both, of her brothers shout "No!"

A moment later a bright green curse – the Killing Curse in fact – was speeding towards her. Ginny had barely a moment to think, let alone dodge, and she reacted the only way she knew how – twisting the broom upwards in a movement so sharp she almost damaged her wrist.

A moment later something rocked the broom so badly that it fell apart between her legs, and Ginny was flung into a tree. It was somewhat comforting to know that she wasn't dead, she thought, as the ground rushed towards her. Then everything went black.

"Ow."

That was Ginny's first word when she woke up. She was lying on the forest floor, her wand still clenched in one hand. She hurt all over. Her head hurt, her throat hurt, her legs hurt, and she had any number of cuts and grazes. Trying to ascertain whether it was wise to move or not, Ginny noticed that the sky was green.

That couldn't be right, surely?

She had to take a deep breath and try to process her thoughts – her brain was sluggish. The sky was green…green…

Ginny swore loudly as she sat up suddenly. She knew exactly what the green light was – or thought she did – and she had to get back to the Burrow immediately. It didn't matter if she'd dislocated her shoulder (well, it mattered – it mattered to such a degree that it might easily overwhelm her ability to _think_). Her wand arm was still good, and that was the main thing.

She tried to run through the trees, but between her shoulder and a twisted right knee it was just too difficult – she was gasping in pain all the time – and she allowed herself to slow to a walk.

It wasn't possible anyway.

Ginny gritted her teeth as she reached the edge of the forest. She could see it, floating above her house – _her_ house, her home, the place she loved most in the world…a great, ugly snake, hissing and flicking its tongue, and…

Ginny felt faint for a moment.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no…

She broke into a run then, her gait lopsided as she sped towards the house. She didn't care if they heard her, she didn't care if the Death Eaters came back, she didn't care…

"Fred! George!"

Ginny came to a skidding stop as she saw where Fred and George lay. They were very still.

"No. Please, no. Please, no, no, don't be…"

She fell to her knees beside them. There was a streak of blood on Fred's cheek, and it looked as though…as though.

George had been blinded.

Ginny sobbed, her gut rising up within her. Fred and George were…were…

She turned away from them and threw up. They weren't dead, they couldn't…wouldn't…

But when she turned back they were still lying there – Fred's eyes staring glassily up at the sky, and George was…

Ginny put a hand on Fred's shoulder, trying to shake him, trying to wake him. "Come _on_ Fred, come on. Please, please…please don't be…"

She heard something howl in the distance as she pleaded with her brothers, and then there was a sharp crack behind her. For a moment Ginny didn't have the strength of mind to turn around – it could be the Death Eaters, come back to finish the job, it could be the Order…it could be her Mum.

At that thought Ginny bit her lip and turned around. She didn't want to have to tell her Mum that Fred and George were…were…were dead. She couldn't bear it.

There was a substantial group of people staring at her – Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and others – and Ginny's lip started to tremble as Remus said, "Ginny, what happened?"

She shook her head, trying desperately not to cry, and then Ron edged his way to the front of the group. "Ginny?"

She shook her head, trying to hold back a sob, and Remus repeated himself. "What happened?"

She stammered despite herself. "I…I found them."

"Found them like what?" Ron said, joining her. "What's wrong with them?"

Ginny bit her lip. "They're…they're…"

"No," Ron said, grabbing her arm, "They're not. They're _not,_ Ginny."

She cried out in pain – Ron looked horrified and said, "Ginny… Are you okay?"

"It's nothing," she said, "I'm fine, I just…"

She heard Tonks' voice say, "We have to get her out of here."

"No!" Ginny shook her head vehemently. "I'm _not_ leaving them – I won't. I won't!"

"Ginny, please…you have to see a Healer."

"I don't care! I don't care about…any of that."

The night air was chilly, and it seemed that all Ginny could see was George's bloodstained face, Fred's blank eyes… She should have been there. She should have _helped_ them, not…

There was a hand on her good shoulder, a voice saying, "Ginny. Ginny, come on."

Slowly she pulled herself to her feet, hissing with pain as she jolted her shoulder. Harry tried, and failed, to smile at her, but Ginny could barely manage a nod. She felt numb.

Remus looked her over and said, "Can you Floo, Ginny?"

She had to think for long moments about her answer. "I don't know…my arm…"

Remus shook his head and picked a long stick off the ground, touching it with his wand and saying, "_Portus._"

Ron stared at him. "We're not going!"

"Think about it Ron," Tonks said, "We have to get away in case they come back – we can't…"

"But, but…Fred and George…we can't just _leave_ them." Ron sounded as though he might cry.

"And we won't," Remus said, "But Ron…look at Ginny. We can't linger."

Hermione slipped her hand into his, "We should go, Ron."

He really looked as though he was about to break down, and more than anything Ginny wanted to hug him but…she felt as though she couldn't move, as though her hands were being pulled down by some weight. It was all she could do to touch the Portkey Remus held out to her.

They were immediately transported to Grimmauld Place, and the upset cries of her father and mother. Ever after Ginny could remember only fragments of that evening – a Healer arriving to fix her shoulder, Remus saying that they'd been given a tip-off that there might be an attack but it had arrived too late, Ron sitting with his head in his hands and Hermione stroking his back… It was all she could do to explain what had happened – Harry's face grew pale when she mentioned the Killing Curse.

It didn't feel real.

Even the next morning, when it ought to have sunk in, it still didn't feel real. Ginny could hear the twins' laughter, could almost _see_ the way they would grin at all the fuss…

She tried her best to help her mother – her Mum couldn't seem to settle to anything, had to be up and doing or she would cry and cry and nothing Ginny could say, nothing she could do made it any better. Her Dad did his best, but he seemed to be walking about in a daze. Ron was as pale and shocked as she was.

If it hadn't been for Harry and Hermione none of them would have remembered to eat or sleep. It was Harry who convinced her to have a sandwich and to go to bed that night, and it was Hermione…it was Hermione who comforted her when she woke up in the middle of the night, sobs forcing themselves up from her gut.

That was the only time she cried, until the day of the funeral. Ginny still felt as though she was in a dream, but she sat by her Dad and held his hand and listened to the speeches. They didn't touch her…they seemed to have nothing to do with the Fred and George she had known, who'd pulled her hair and teased her about Harry and turned her into a canary and…

Ron sat beside her, and halfway through the funeral he grabbed her left hand and didn't let go. He was weeping, and Ginny _wished_ she could do the same, but she felt hard, as though someone had tied a knot in her heart. She could feel Harry's eyes on her, she knew he wanted to hold her, to help her and yet…

Afterwards, when the guests were standing about in small clumps, talking about Fred and George – in the _past_ tense – Ginny wandered. Bill was helping her Mum and Charlie her Dad, so she had nothing to do. Hermione had her arms wrapped around Ron, and Harry was talking to him in a low voice, his hand on Ron's back.

She had intended to talk to Percy, and yet…the moment she saw him, his spectacles glinting, his dress robes perfectly pressed and his hair slicked back, all she could think of was what the twins would have said – what they would have thrown at him.

But despite his usual spit and polish, Percy's face was a mask of grief. He had visited the Burrow, but Ginny had been…she hadn't spoken to him. When their eyes met though, he opened his arms, and Ginny let him hug her.

He smelt of soap and parchment and ink, and Ginny buried her head in his shoulder. There was a lump, large and hard as a stone, in her throat, and she had had to screw her face up against a terrible cry of misery.

Percy held her tight and stroked her hair and she heard him gasp, "Oh Ginny!"

And then she couldn't help herself. She cried and cried, and it felt as though she was breathing for the first time since she'd seen the Dark Mark. It wasn't like weeping, it wasn't some indulgence of pain, it was instinct, it was unstoppable…

Percy held onto her for what must been…Ginny had no idea how long it was, but finally he left her to talk to their parents. She wiped her eyes as Neville and Luna joined her – they didn't expect her to talk to them.

Neville gave her a glass of water and let her lean her head on his shoulder as Luna talked about the next edition of the Quibbler. She actually made Ginny _laugh_.

It was a relief not to have to talk, and Ginny found herself growing tired, from sorrow and lack of sleep. In a way, she was glad when Hermione told her that they were going home, though it was much harder than usual to say goodbye to Neville and Luna.

Ginny sat with her Mum – let her brush her hair, and feed her, and do all the things her Mum loved to do – but it was hard. Eventually her Dad convinced her Mum to get some sleep and Ginny joined the others in the sitting room.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting together – Ron's eyes were red with weeping. Ginny wavered for a moment, and then she threw her arms around him. There had been times when they'd hadn't gotten on, when they'd fought and wounded each other, but…she hated to see Ron looking so much like a little boy.

None of them wanted to go to bed, but Fleur, who had risen to the occasion with her usual proud spirit, ordered them upstairs at half eleven, and informed them that no one was to get up before ten o'clock the next morning.

Harry held her hand as they climbed the stairs and, without thinking about it, Ginny brought him into her room. It was only when he closed the door that she realised Hermione wasn't with them – presumably she was with Ron.

Ginny stared at him – it had been so long since they were alone in a room together and yet… Harry's eyes were kind. "Are you all right?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know." She sniffed and tried to smile at him. "I suppose I'm as well as…as I can be."

"Ginny," Harry said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault, Harry. I just wish I'd got there sooner."

He came closer to her, grasping her upper arms. "I'm not," he said. "You nearly died as it was, Ginny, and…I don't know what I'd have done if…" He caught himself. Now was not the time. "They wouldn't have wanted it either."

Ginny stared up at him, at his beautiful eyes that were full of love, even if he wouldn't say it, and her mouth seemed to dry up and she blushed. The heat of his hands seemed to soak right through to her skin.

Harry kissed her forehead, his lips lingering, and impulsively, she hugged him. Taking a deep breath she whispered in his ear, trembling and terrified that he might say no – that he might say yes…

"Could you…could you stay with me? Not to…_do_ anything, but, could you just…"

"Yes."

Harry's voice was firm, but Ginny could feel that he was trembling. Even if they didn't kiss that night…they would still in the same bed, skin-to-skin, hip-to-hip.

She pulled away from him – at that moment it was just too hard to meet his eyes – and said, "Could you…close your eyes for just a second? I want to…I want to get changed."

Harry nodded, but he licked his lips unconsciously, and the movement made her shiver. Still, he did as he was told, and turned around for good measure, and Ginny yanked a nightdress over her head as quickly as possible.

It was a long, pale thing, not in the least bit attractive, and yet when Harry turned around she felt almost naked. There was no way her mother would ever approve of this.

Oddly, that thought made her want to laugh, which steadied her nerves somewhat – which was a good thing, as the sound of Harry taking his jeans off would have terrified her otherwise.

They were weirdly silent as they got into bed, but once they were actually lying down it was easier. Harry smiled at her, and suddenly…it was all that different from all the times Hermione or Louise had stayed over, except…well, she'd never wanted to… with one of them.

Harry grinned and said, "Feeling well?"

Ginny giggled, and tucked her head under his chin. All day long she'd been rigid, as though someone had welded steel to her spine, but for now she could just sink into him.

His hand slid along her hair, and Ginny yawned – if she'd been a cat she would have purred. She kissed Harry's neck and smiled at him. "Thank you," she said.

Tomorrow they would be separate, they wouldn't hold each other or kiss but…in a way, this one night was enough.

She slept peacefully.


	11. A Time to Mourn

A Time to Mourn

Ginny smiled at her father. "Look," she said, "we've almost finished for the day. Why don't you get a cup of tea, and I'll clear out the register."

Her Dad pushed his glasses up his nose and said, "Are you sure Ginny? I can do it if you don't want to."

Ginny shook her head and pushed him firmly in the direction of the kitchen. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Besides, if they left any booby traps, you're better able to help me."

Her Dad nodded and left the room. Ginny bit her lip and walked to the cash register. She was worried about him. There were grey streaks in his hair now, lines on his face, and if anything, he seemed _more_ forgetful. Her Mum seemed to be dealing with things better, though she clung to them all more, especially Percy, and worried frantically about Ron, Harry and Hermione. Clearing out the twins' flat had been the hardest part, and the most upsetting. Ginny could handle her parents' grief, but when she'd found Bill crying in George's bedroom she'd been almost frightened.

And he and Fleur had been so _wonderful_ too. They'd practically moved into the Burrow – Fleur spent hours looking at baby pictures with their Mum, and Bill did his best to get their Dad to talk. Ginny hadn't really appreciated any of it – she still felt numb, as though she was merely from one day to the next. It was impossible to realize that her life no longer had Fred and George in it.

She'd come home one day, exhausted after hours in Twillfit and Tatlings and a session with the DA, wanting only to go to bed, but Fleur had made her eat. Not only that, she'd made her _talk_. Not about the twins – that wound was still too raw – but about the DA, and the beautiful robes they sold in the shop, and how much Ginny wanted Neville to get a move on with Susan. And about Harry.

Not about the obvious things – not about the fact that he'd left her, or was the Chosen One, or might die any minute. About the way he looked at her, the way his eyes got _fierce_ and he seemed to be stopping himself from touching her. About all the ways that look scared her, though she loved his face when it looked like that more than _anything_. About how if she gave into that keen, breathless look she'd more in love with than she could ever bear, and might well die of it.

Except of course, not in so many words. It was incredibly hard to _say_ such things – Ginny's face got red and she stammered and didn't know where to look. It didn't help that Fleur's reaction wasn't outrage or a stern reminder that Ginny wasn't of age, but a nod. Ginny would have known what to do with disapproval.

Fleur had nodded, and drank her tea and finally said, "You're a very good-looking girl, Ginny." This wasn't at all the response Ginny had been expecting, and she'd barely been able to conceal her surprise as Fleur continued. "But you are not yet wise. You can only be wise when you're old. For now you need only be strong enough."

Ginny had gaped at her, but Fleur had merely smiled in her enigmatic way and gone upstairs to bed. Ginny still wasn't sure what she thought of it. In any case, since she hadn't seen hide or hair of Harry in nearly a month, it probably wasn't worth worrying. She didn't have the energy.

She bit her lip as she looked through the twins' register. The owner of the building had yet to find a new taker for the lease, business having trailed off due to the war, but at the least they had to catalogue the stock so they could move it when necessary.

The last thing Ginny had expected to find was a book containing all the twins' formulas, but it was there, on a shelf under the counter. All their current products were there, as well as hundreds of ideas in various stages of development.

Ginny was so enthralled by what she was reading, that she didn't even notice her Dad come in until she heard his cup smash on the floor as he said, "GINNY!"

She looked at him, surprised, and saw that he had his wand out and was pointing at…at…at Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius Malfoy was standing in the twins' shop. Ginny tried to control her breathing as he said, "Arthur," and gave a courtly bow. Her Dad's hand was trembling as he held his wand. "What do you want, Malfoy?" he said.

Malfoy attempted his usual smirk, but perhaps his heart wasn't in it – he looked very ill. In fact, his face was grey and worn, and his clothes dull and stained, not his usual elegant attire at all.

Ginny managed to get her wand out, but he saw the movement and faced her instantly. "Sorry to bother you Arthur," he drawled, "But the Dark Lord wants me to deal with your daughter."

She had never, _ever_ seen her father so furious, and his voice trembled as he said, "You won't lay a _finger_ on my daughter, Lucius."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I won't have to."

Without taking his eyes off Malfoy, her Dad said, "Ginny Floo to Headquarters, now."

"But Dad – " she said, not liking the idea of leaving him alone with a Death Eater.

"NOW, Ginny."

She recognised that particular tone and obeyed him instantly, dropping to all fours as Malfoy let loose his first curse. She crawled the length of the counter and scrambled into the back room, trying to ignore the shouts and hisses of hexes thrown she heard as she went. It took one whole, panicky minute for to find the Floo powder, and she almost dropped it when she heard glass shattering outside. By the time she was in the Floo she had broken out in a cold sweat.

She tumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, gabbling about Malfoy and her Dad. She was so incoherent it was a wonder Lupin understood at all, but by some miracle he did, and he, Tonks and Moody set off to help her Dad.

Ginny spent ten minutes pacing the room, chewing on her lower lip and waiting for them to return. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Harry, Ron and Hermione Apparated into the kitchen. She was trying, and failing, to explain what had had happened, when Lupin and her Dad reappeared.

Her father's face was pale and frightened, and he seized Ginny by the shoulders, saying, "Are you all right? Are you all right, Ginny?"

"Yes, Dad," she said, truly worried by the look on his face. The moment she said it, he hugged her hard. Ginny heard him say, "Thank God," and she held on tight.

It was a minute or two before either of them was composed enough to answer Ron's question. "What the bloody hell happened?"

Their Dad shook his head, and Lupin said, "Lucius Malfoy is dead." Hermione gasped. "It looks like he was hit with a Killing Curse, but we checked Arthur's wand, and he definitely didn't cast it. The worst he managed was to Banish him through the front window." He held his hands up resignedly. "We don't know what happened."

Hermione looked confused. "But if Mr Weasley didn't…were there any Aurors there?"

Lupin shook his head. "None. There weren't even any in the street."

Ginny squeezed her father's hand. "I'm just glad he didn't have to cast that spell," she said.

"I agree with you Ginny," Lupin said. "But I don't trust miraculous help. I want to know what happened."

Her Dad looked worried and said, "What would Voldemort want with Ginny?"

Lupin's head almost seemed to snap as he turned to look at her Dad. "Isn't it obvious Arthur?" he said.

Harry shifted in his seat, and Ginny felt a yawning gulf open up inside her. She'd never told her parents about her and Harry – there'd barely been time before Dumbledore's death, and afterwards her feelings had been so confused that she hadn't known what to do.

Lupin looked at her accusingly. "Did you tell your parents, Ginny?"

"Tell us what?" her Dad said.

Ginny couldn't speak – her lips seemed stuck together – and she looked at Lupin pleadingly. It was Harry who said, "The thing is Mr Weasley, Ginny and I were…going out, for a while, last year."

He looked miserable, and Ginny's Dad said, "Why didn't you tell us Gin?"

She stumbled over her words as she tried to explain. "It was only for a few weeks, and then…Dumbledore died and Harry broke…and I didn't want you to be angry with him, and I was confused. And I didn't think it mattered."

Lupin's tone was low and even as he said, "You did realise that any relationship with harry made you a prime target, did you not?"

"Yes, but…we were broken up," Ginny said helplessly.

"You know as well as I do that Voldemort has no time for such distinctions. Harry is not a normal young man – and as a mature young woman, Ginny, you ought to have put aside any adolescent awkwardness and informed your parents of any relationship immediately. Had that been the case, Fred and George might have been more on their guard."

For a moment, Ginny thought she might faint, but Lupin was clearly furious, and she had to answer him. Bursting into tears – which she would, shortly – wouldn't help. Her lips were trembling as she said, "I'm sorry."

"That's not really very helpful _now_, Ginny."

"I know," she said, resisting tears with everything she could. "I know, but I'm sorry."

She heard her Dad say, "Remus," as she ran out of the room.

* * *

It was Ron who found her. She'd been lying on her old bed, staring at the walls. Her tears had long since dried, and she was left with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Ron sat beside her awkwardly, and said, "Dad's not angry, you know."

Ginny felt very tired. "Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "He said he wished you'd told him, but he understands." He chuckled. "Harry didn't know where to look."

Ginny sat up and looked at him for a moment before she said, "Was he… Does he blame me for Fred and George?" She had to swallow a sob.

"No," Ron said, "Of course not. We're targets anyway, remember? Besides, would Voldemort really have sent five of his best Death Eaters just to get you? I kow you're tough, Gin, but you're not that tough."

"Yeah," Ginny said, unable to restrain a sniffle.

"Look, Ginny," Ron said, "I get it. It must have been awful. I don't know what I'd do if Hermione… I mean," he added hurriedly, "I wasn't sure about you and Harry, I thought you might hurt him, but it's obvious you really like him and…"

Ginny stared at him. "Are you joking me?" she said. Ron shook his head, and she walked out of the room, muttering, "Unbelievable."

Ron followed her, saying desperately, "Look, I'm not criticising you; it's just the way you treated Michael and Dean, that'd really hurt Harry, Ginny, and –"

"He broke up with me!" Ginny said fiercely, as she walked into the kitchen. "He's the one who left for months on end, with no word, and people telling me twice a week that he was dead. And you were worried _I_ would hurt _him_? I don't _believe_ you, Ron." She had to pause for a moment to catch her breath. "Did it even cross your mind that _I_ might get hurt? Did you even care?"

"Ginny, don't be so ridiculous," Ron started to say, but he was interrupted by Hermione opening the pantry door. She and Harry were standing there.

Ginny bit her lip – she couldn't look at Harry. "Look," she said, "I don't even want to talk about this any more. I have a DA meeting to run, since none of you are there to do it."

She stepped into the fireplace and said, "Hogwarts," before Ron could even answer her. She was just too angry to even speak to him.

* * *

Ginny continued to run DA meetings nearly twice a week for the next seven weeks. She didn't see Ron or Harry or Hermione again, but she did start to receive the occasional owl, usually from Hermione, sometimes from Ron. Harry never sent a word.

She studied the twins' book with Luna, winced whenever she read the _Daily Prophet _and went for lunch with Neville and his Gran. It was Neville who listened to her complaints about the customers at Twillfit and Tatlings, Harry's hurtful silence and her awkwardness around Lupin (who she was avoiding as much as possible, though she knew it was foolish). She loved Neville for his steadfast heart and unfailing patience – but there were times when she wondered why on earth he put up with her.

One night early in May, Ginny's Mum talked to her about Harry. It was a conversation she had been dreading. She'd been worried her Mum would think her foolish, or romantic, or that her feelings for Harry were something she would get over. There must have been something in her face though, for her Mum only stroked her hair and she was proud of her. It was both comforting, and mildly disappointing.

The biggest relief though, happened one evening toward the end of May. Ginny and Neville were cleaning up a few last things from the Room of Requirement when Susan joined them. She looked sideways at Neville and then said, "Ginny, I wanted to ask you something."

"Okay," Ginny said.

"Well, it's just… I know you're very busy, and I was wondering if … if you'd like me to take over the DA sessions. I think I could do it now."

"Oh," Ginny said, "If you're sure. I mean…it'd be great, but don't do it unless you're sure."

"I am," Susan said. "We really appreciate everything you've done, especially after what happened to your brothers, but … we all know you've got more important things to do."

"Oh," Ginny said. "Thanks. And I can still drop in if you need help, or if you've got questions or anything, so don't hesitate to Owl."

Susan nodded, and smiled at Ginny before going to talk to Neville. Ginny rather thought she heard him ask her, bashfully, to meet him at the next Hogsmeade weekened, but she wasn't sure.

In any case, Susan was gone a moment later, and Neville and Ginny got ready to leave. They were meeting Luna at the Hog's Head, but Ginny wanted to wash her hands first, so she popped into Myrtle's bathroom. A moment later she screamed.

The Chamber of Secrets had been opened.


End file.
